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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720604">Kingdom Crumb</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt'>Backwardshirt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Curses, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Grimmjow is a bastard, Healing, Human Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Ichigo is Thirsy, Ichigo is impulsive, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nightmares, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, fake dating/courting, some folklore, until it isnt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:36:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>113,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo Kurosaki has absolutely had it. His father won't stop annoying him about his less than active love-life, the neighboring kingdom is sending spies to infiltrate the kitchens of all places, and to top it all off, when Ichigo takes off on his beloved horse Zangetsu into the forest to get some much needed away time from his chaotic castle life, he's ambushed.</p><p>Thankfully, a man with blue eyes steps in to help when things go sideways. But who was the man who attacked him, what does he know about his mothers death, and most importantly, is his family in danger from this strange group known as the Espada?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Runaway Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so this is my first attempt at an Alternate Universe, so let's hope it does the thing! It's supposed to be a mix of Medieval/Fantasy like...stuff.  There's a lot of exposition in this first bit, but it hopefully picks up pretty quickly. I'll try to update in batches of chapters, but eventually it'll be whatever. I actually plotted this one out, so at least there's a clear direction that I'm going for instead of winging it lol. This is probably going to be a longer piece. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!  :) Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I went back and edited this chapter some, so hopefully it's a little less exposition-y than last time :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Let’s go Zangetsu,” Ichigo said, kicking the side of his horse, spurring him deep into the forest behind the castle, crawling out behind stone walls like a deep, throbbing scar. Zangetsu whinnied in agreement, picking up his hooves at a faster pace, reaching towards a gallop, getting into rhythm quickly, even though the ground was still slick with the new spring thaw.</p><p>Ichigo could practically hear the trees screaming <em>too fast, you’re going too fast, slow the fuck down you tangerine moron.</em> Ichigo raised a finger to them, metaphorically and a little physically; they had no business telling him how to ride his horse. Clenching his jaw tighter as he raced through the forest, Zangetsu wound between old and new trees alike, hooves flashing red against the ground, the silence almost deafening between his ears.  </p><p><em>At least I can breathe out here,</em> he thought, air brushing around him, through his hair and over what little skin exposed in the still cold air. It was refreshing, since he’d been cooped up in that damned castle with an annoying ass father who insisted on getting personally involved in his love life. Or lack thereof, rather. <em>Maybe Orihime could boil one of his rubber boots and make Isshin drink the soup. That would show him. </em></p><p>Shaking his head and pushing Zangetsu faster, he felt motionless as the tar black stallion soared over fallen trees and cracked rocks, like he was more bird that horse, flying over everything in his path. Breathing in sync, and pressing against the horse’s flank, Ichigo leaned in, thighs tightening around the horse’s strong body for balance and speed, mane whipping around his face. He knew the Forest of Souls was forbidden territory, for whatever the hell reason. He didn’t care; right now, he needed to escape that stuffy-ass castle.</p><p>Ichigo really wanted to scream. A <em>manly</em> scream, thank you very much. Yell out his frustrations to the forest whose only goal was to…grow all big and fucking scary, he guessed. Trees certainly wouldn’t care if he cursed out a few profanities and his father alike. Hell, every tree he’d passed looked like it was haunted by ghosts of cedar’s past; they’d probably agree. <em>Zangetsu wouldn’t approve,</em> he thought pointedly, feeling the steed’s steading breathing as he galloped. <em>Just out of spite.</em></p><p>Urging Zangetsu to go faster, faster into a canter, weaving through trees and limbs filled with half-grown leaves, Ichigo leaned his body against him, ducking from branches clawing at his face. Spring had finally settled across the land; he was more than happy to greet it. Winters were long, cold, and <em>boring as hell.</em> If he made one more snow angel, he would lose his damn mind in a frozen wasteland. Maybe Yuzu would thaw it out if he asked nicely.</p><p> Snow always managed to get inside his boots and freeze his feet—he’d tripped over thresholds in front of his friends one too many times to be seen as stoic.</p><p>“Damnit!” he cursed, as a branch smacked him in the face, scratching his right cheek. A small trickle of blood dripped down his skin. Rolling his eyes, tears prickled in the corners because of the speed of his horse, plus the chill of the air. Air smelled like a mix of dampness and thick forest. Some pine, but mostly not. It smelled clean, fresh.</p><p> </p><p><em>Goat-face needs to cool it,</em> he thought, memory of earlier lingering bitter in his mouth. Isshin was pulling at Ichigo’s last nerve, which was already hanging by a thread, dangling over a canyon, across a lake of lava. He was <em>this</em> close, thumb and forefinger touching, <em>thank you very much,</em> to shoving his father in a barrel and letting him bumble down the river. Maybe the ride would knock some sense into him.</p><p>Pulling back the reigns, he slowed Zangetsu as a stream came within view. Figuring it was a good enough spot to rest, they came to a stop beside it, and Ichigo slid off the silky bare back. Saddles were such a pain in the ass. He was tall and strong enough now, he didn’t need stirrups or a horn to help him up, anyway. Plus, he wanted to get out of the castle as quick as possible, and Zangetsu seemed to agree.</p><p>Hadn’t been able to ride him in quite some time, and Ichigo missed him. This past winter had been particularly difficult weather-wise. Ichigo was surprised he didn’t see leftover soggy snow, turning the ground to mush, but there was none in sight; he wasn’t really looking as he pushed Zangetsu deeper into the forest, anyway.</p><p>“What do you think about it, Zan?” Ichigo asked, rubbing up the horses face as he tried to stick his nose in Ichigos’ pants pocket. Chuckling, Ichgio scratched behind his ears, and pulled out a small red apple, which the horse tried to grab, the pig. Holding the apple just out of reach, Ichigo watched as Zangetsu strained against him, trying to take his well-deserved prize.</p><p>“You don’t even care about me, do you? You’re just using me for the apples!” Ichigo snorted as Zangetsu took the whole apple in his mouth and crunched. Swallowing in one gulp, the horse nudged Ichigo’s arm again.</p><p>“Is this you agreeing with me?” Zangetsu nudged his arm once more, and Ichigo shook his head, running a hand up his nose and around his ears. A single white spot illuminated Zan’s chest, right at the base of his neck, but it was small enough that, if someone wasn’t looking for it, they wouldn’t see it. Ichigo scratched it, making his horse let out a pleased whinny, pawing at the ground and sending out a few lingering sparks from his enchantment.</p><p>“You’re such a bastard,” he said, laughing, handing another apple to him.</p><p>Spying a rock that was semi-comfortably shaped, Ichigo sat, resting his head in his hands. He didn’t come into the forest very often, as going deep into it was forbidden most of the year, but when he did, a sense of calm descend on his body. Like his troubles were back at the castle and couldn’t reach him out here. Ichigo looked up through the trees, to the sun which was beginning to set. <em>How long have I been riding?</em> It didn’t feel like very long, time ticking by slow as branches few past his head, but time often slipped away from him. That, and evening still set in fairly early. Remembering the morning, his father’s childish antics, he frowned.</p><p><em>Couldn’t I just be a bachelor prince? </em>he thought, sticking out his tongue at his reflection in the water. He’d considered running off into the Forest of Souls for good, living like a dirty hobgoblin and snacking on mushrooms when he got hungry, even though he’d yet to actually see one. The dream was nice, but unrealistic. Someone would <em>probably</em> miss him.</p><p>That and the weird stuff the townspeople said about the forest. He wasn’t scared, but he’d also heard howling of the wolves living deep in the forest.</p><p> <em>Living in the forest is a great idea, if you want to be cursed for the rest of your life,</em> Shinji had told him after a particularly rough training session. Ichigo didn’t want to leave his sisters alone with the antics of their outrageous father. And he would inevitably find him anyway, the bastard. Maybe if he rubbed enough dirt and shit on his face, Isshin would leave him alone for a while. Ichigo sighed.</p><p>Skipping a stray rock over the river’s crystalline water, watching as it rippled out and away, and settled once more, he sighed again.</p><p>Karakura was years into their peacetime, thanks to his father, a good King when he tried. <em>Well, the good ideas are probably Urahara’s, </em>Ichigo thought with a frown. But Isshin always made sure the plans, or new rules, or whatever, went off without much of an issue. He always insisted Ichigo call him ‘Uncle’, but Ichigo refused. Calling him “Uncle Urahara” sounded weird as <em>hell</em>.</p><p>Zangetsu nudged his shoulder, wanting another apple. Ichigo ran a hand up his long face, watching his ears twitch, patting his sturdy side. “Sorry Zan, all out.” Ichigo had mentioned reaching out to other provinces and kingdoms in acts of diplomacy, fearing their isolationism would make it harder for him, if he ever did accept the throne. Isshin always waved it off, unconcerned until recently. <em>We’ve been fine without them for this many years, why should we start now?</em> <em>Besides, it’s a two-way road.</em></p><p>Huffing beside him, the horse ambled closer to the river, drinking deeply from it. He watched the muscles in his neck work as Zangetsu swallowed what had to be five gallons of water. <em>He’s not wrong, but I don’t think he’s completely right either.</em> Isshin was far too dismissive, especially with the Sovereignty on the other side of the forest. But Ichigo also knew the old man was sharper than he let on—he’d ruled for plenty of years, and it couldn’t have been entirely by accident.</p><p>But the <em>courtship</em> talks. Ichigo glared into the water, reminiscing on earlier, a crease forming in his brow. He frowned; every time Isshin found a pretty girl, he tried to throw her his way. The old man had slacked the past few weeks, much to Ichigo’s pleasant surprise, but picked up again the last few days, cumulating in pestering him nonstop this morning—the main reason he was in the forest now.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Dad, what? No I—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What hot-blooded young man wouldn’t want a piece of this?” Isshin asked, gesturing his arms to Orihime, cape flying madly behind him, like it too wanted to fly far away from his antics. Ichigo rolled his eyes the same time Orihime did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My King,” Orihime started, walking towards him, light blue dress stopping just above her ankles, showing her pink socked feet wiggling on the floor, trying not to slip. They were having this argument in one of the long corridors of the castle of all places, their voices echoing off the high ceiling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Isshin! Or call me Dad,” Isshin waved around again like a madman, spinning in a circle like he wanted to dizzy himself. Maybe he had too much of Yoruichi’s wine…again.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She sighed, and shook her head at the man, orange braided hair swinging at the motion slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright…sir. Do you see why that could be an issue? I’ve been raised alongside the prince nearly my whole life.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ichigo nodded in agreement, as Orihime straightened her hair, bringing her single braid to rest on her shoulder and dangle down, brushing up against the middle of her arm. Isshin pouted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It would be like kissing my sister,” Ichigo nudged Orihime’s elbow, a devilish smirk playing on his lips, “Besides, she’s got her eye on a certain glasses wearing—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Orihime smacked his arm, turning red and shushing him. Ichigo laughed, bringing up her crush on Uryu every at any opportunity. One day, he’d be able to see clearly through those thick glasses…maybe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isshin whined but perked up a minute later, eyes practically glowing with mischief. He was just as bad as Urahara sometimes, the big perv.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fine. At least tell me the kind of women you like so I can find the right one,” he said, pouting at Ichigo, looking like a child. Didn’t he have to ruin a kingdom instead of Ichigo’s morning? “Tall, short, blonde, brunette, busty, good ass—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ichigo lobbed his coat at him, now his face wrinkled up and red. Isshin fake cried, crocodile tears pouring out of his eyes like a broken levee. How that man ever got to be King, Ichigo was sure he’d never know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isshin’s brother may have been more mature, but his father didn’t like to speak about deceased kin. Ichigo could relate. He didn’t really like talking about his Mom for the same reasons—he saw the look the twins had when he mentioned her once. He hadn’t spoken about her since; watching them try and remember a woman they’d never met was a special kind of torture. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ichigo groaned. “For starters,” you’re a moron, he wanted to finish with. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t like women.” There. He said it. Not that Isshin would care. He led a pretty progressive rule, so Ichigo didn’t see an issue; he’d just never thought to tell him about his…personal preferences before now. His father gaped at him for a moment before throwing his hands up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why the hell couldn’t you have told me that sooner! I’ve been wasting my time looking for a lock when I should’ve been looking for another key!” Ichigo rolled his eyes, and facepalmed at the thinly veiled vulgarity. Orihime just laughed by his side. What a pain in the ass; he needed some fresh air, and soon. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Ichigo looked down at the callouses on his hands, rough from swordplay, and rubbed them together, feeling numb spots scrape against each other like leather.</p><p>
  <em>Not like I’ve got any actual enemies though.</em>
</p><p>He sighed, looking at his reflection in the water. The cut on his cheek from the damned stray branch dried, leaving a trickle of dead blood cracking on his face. Honey-brown, ambered eyes, started back at him, as obnoxious orange hair almost glowed in the reflection, casting a  halo around his face. His skin was tanned from being outside so much; he hated being inside, and would run around outside the castle at every opportunity, much to the irritation of his father, especially when he was supposed to be studying over diplomacy or…some other royal shit he was supposed to care about.</p><p>Often, he helped Orihime pick out fresh foods from one of the busy markets, afraid to leave her to her own devices. The last time he did that, she’d made a pork cutlet eggroll with wasabi and chocolate sauce with a side of pickled radishes atop a slice of peanut-butter bread. He shivered at the thought.</p><p> Uryu and Chad usually went with him as well, not that he needed guarding. Ichigo knew he was fully capable of protecting himself, and Uryu half the time wanted to look for different swatches of material, the big nerd. Chad had found a small black cat the last time; it had followed them all the way back to the castle. Karin and Yuzu were ecstatic.</p><p>Ichigo watched the horse pout as he found very little grass to satisfy his monstrous appetite.</p><p>The land beneath their feet was mostly barren, since once the leaves sprouted fully from the trees, they’d steel the undergrowth in blue-black darkness. Ichigo reached out and grabbed a branch, pulling it down to his face. Budding leaves held a blueish hue to them like always. In four months’ time they would be fully leafed out, and the Festival of Souls would take place.</p><p>Ichigo rubbed his eyes, trying for a spark of memory, but barely recognized the last one; the festival only happened when the calendar and moon cycle aligned, when the Blue Moon yielded the last of July. His sisters had been counting down to the day for a couple years now, studying moon phases and alignment charts relentlessly, heard how they whispered to each other about finally meeting their mom. He’d wanted to tell them that the spirits returning was just a legend, a myth of the times, but he could never bring himself to do it.</p><p>They looked like her, while much to his dismay, he seemed to take after his father. <em>At least, everywhere but the facial hair department,</em> he thought, rubbing his stubble-less chin, and sighing. Whatever. He preferred clean shaven anyway.</p><p>Clapping hands down on his legs, knowing he’d probably overstayed his welcome in the ever darkening forest, he shifted to Zangetsu, who was still trying to graze on the bare minimum grass he could find, and stood. Horse barely even noticed when he held out his arm, reaching for the reigns dragging the ground.</p><p>“Come on, Zan, it’s time we left,” he said flexing his fingers.</p><p>A branch broke behind him, and Ichigo turned his head to catch a glimpse of what did it, before something clipped his arm, tearing his sleeve.</p><p>He snapped his head back down, glaring at a bloodied gash forming, and clamped a hand over the cut. Startled by the sudden burst of pain, Ichigo spun around, eyes scanning the tree line, searching for the archer.</p><p> <em>I swear, if Uryu followed me just to have a sick game of target practice again, I’m gonna piss all over his bed.</em> Orihime was insane; what could she possibly see in that guy?</p><p> Another arrow shot by his head, impaling into the ground next to Zangetsu’s mouth and scaring him into letting out a distressed whinny. Ichigo glared around as he saw him stamping the ground, anxious to leave, head swinging around, eyes black and wide.</p><p>“Who’s there?” he called out, crouching down behind the rock he’d sat on, looking to the thickness of branches, ever darkening in the fading light.</p><p>Either the archer had bad aim, or was playing with him. Uryu might shoot at him, but he’d leave Zan out of it; glancing back at the horse, he didn’t want to take the chance of him getting hit.</p><p>Springing from his crouch quickly and whirling around, he raised a hand and slapped him square on his hindquarters, starting the horse even more.</p><p>“Get going, Zan!” he yelled as Zangetsu reared up on hind legs, kicking the air and whinnying. Another arrow shot by the horse’s ear, striking a trunk of the tree behind him.</p><p>Ichigo felt his chest tighten, but it didn’t look like the arrow had nicked the horse. Panicked, Zangetsu bolted through the forest, leaving Ichigo alone.</p><p>“Bastard!” he yelled to the trees, watching black canter through branches before disappearing over a small incline Ichigo didn’t recognize.</p><p>Whoever it was would be after him, not his trusted horse. Someone at the castle would notice Zangetsu come back without Ichigo, but that could take time. Time he wasn’t sure he had.</p><p>He was on his own for now. Spinning back around, towards where the arrows had been shot from, he leveled a glare at every offending tree.</p><p>“Show yourself!” Ichigo grabbed at the hilt of his sword, only to find it missing.</p><p><em>Damnit, I left it behind like an idiot. </em>He hadn’t planned on getting ambushed, though that wasn’t usually how these things worked.</p><p>Heart pounding rapidly in his ears, he reached down for the small knife he always kept in his boot. It was better than nothing in this case.</p><p>He heard laughter coming from behind the thicket of trees, and a man emerged. He was wearing glasses similar to Uryu’s except his were white, and his hair was an even more obnoxious pink hue, coming down his shoulders in waves. His black jacket, quilted in a diamond pattern, had a curve of leather belts holding it in place, meeting a high collar that came up to his chin. Ducking his head down, the man covered up his mouth with the collar, eyes flashing a dangerous color.  </p><p>“Well now, looks like you’ve been left behind, dear prince,” uttered a mocking voice, oozing fake sincerity. The man raised a finger, gesturing grandly to his injured arm, and placed his hand against his forehead, pretending to faint.  </p><p>“And I doubt you’ll be standing for much longer.” Dropping his hand away from his face and arching his head up, Ichigo could see a scar along one side of his mouth, running up to the corner of his left eye, mimicking the worst smile he’d ever seen. The scar looked fairly old, it was hard to tell from the distance between them, but it looked faded, like the skin was trying to match itself again and failing.  </p><p>“Tch, in case you didn’t realize, your arrow barely scratched me,” Ichigo said, baring his teeth, and holding his knife in front of him, trying to keep the man from coming closer.</p><p>Close combat fighting was fine, but if his arrows were anything to go by, this guy preferred longer range weapons—definitely <em>not </em>something Ichigo was used to dealing with. Plus, fighting arrows with a handheld knife seemed ridiculous; what was he supposed to do, cut them in half midair? Throw his only weapon at the nutcase? Unfortunately, cutting and slashing was his area of expertise, not marksmanship.</p><p> Wait<em>.</em> How did he know who Ichigo was? It wasn’t like his father had his children on display very much. In fact, it was usually the opposite. The townspeople often forgot he was actually the crowned prince, and usually treated him as any other annoying 23-year-old guy.</p><p>“Such foolishness,” the man continued, rolling his eyes, a hand on his hips, “I don’t ever recall saying I needed to make a direct hit.”</p><p>Ichigo felt dizzy at the man’s words, his arm unbearably heavy. <em>This isn’t a good sign.</em> A tingling sensation started at the arrow’s nic and wormed its way down to the tips of his fingers; spreading the other way as well, it ached along the nerves in his arm, seeping into his shoulders before moving down into the rest of his body. When the feeling hit the top of his thighs, he pushed his feet apart for balance, arms hanging more and more useless at his sides; the knife slipped from his fingers, impaling itself into the ground. Ichigo felt like his legs were shaking, but he couldn’t see it happening, fingers, hands unable to move at all. <em>Bastard with poisoned arrows. What a coward.</em> Trying to push down the panic starting up his throat, he could feel his chest tightening, and dread settled low into his belly.</p><p>The longer he kept standing, the harder it was for him to keep from trembling, muscles straining to keep his body upright. Standing on pure stubbornness, he leveled a glare at the stranger, and watched through blurring vision as the man walked closer to him, closing the space between them util he was right in front of Ichigo.</p><p> He could see the scar better, a half Chelsea smile stretching tightly over widening lips, and Ichigo noticed his top lip was a royal purple. <em>What the hell?</em> When the man grabbed his chin and forced his face to the side with one gloved hand, Ichigo considered trying to bite him. The man <em>tsked</em> at him, before planting a black booted foot on his leg and pushing him down. Ichigo fell to the ground on his knees, refusing to fully submit. He’d sooner die.</p><p>“If I knew it was going to be this easy,” the man said, gesturing at Ichigo’s form like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, disappointment clear on his face, “I would’ve bothered making all my other plans. You’re <em>far</em> to careless, Ichigo Kurosaki.”</p><p>Ichigos breath hitched at the mention of his full name. What could this man possibly want? Kidnapping maybe? The arrow could’ve been doused in a deadly poison instead of paralysis, so at least he wasn’t going to kill him…yet. But that didn’t make him feel any better, not with the way this freak was staring at him, yellow eyes narrowed, pupils slit, looking him up and down, and licking purple tinted lips. <em>Did he have poison directly on his lips? What the fuck? </em></p><p>“We’ve got quite a few <em>interesting </em>plans for you, my boy,” the man said, leaning down and running a tongue across Ichigo’s bloody cheek. He tried to spit at him, but his body was hardly paying attention to him now. <em>We?</em> Was there more of them? Ichigo tried wracking his brain for any known groups of bandits his father had spoken about, but came up empty, head pounding, world beginning to spin. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down with effort.</p><p>“<em>Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you freak</em>,” he hissed out, eyes flashing. The man put a mock hand over his heart, and laughed.</p><p>“Oooo so scary. I’m trembling in my boots,” he chuckled, bringing his arms close to his chest and shivering for effect. “And such foul language for a prince. Did your <em>mother</em> teach you how to talk like that?”</p><p>Ichigo’s entire body tensed at the mention of his mother. Grunting, he tried to force his body to obey, if only to spit in the man’s stupid face. Ichigo felt his body growing even heavier, burning at the strain of keeping him sitting up right on unfeeling legs. <em>The second I go down, I’m out, I know it. </em>Ichigo cursed again, this was turning into a real shitshow.</p><p>The man cupped his face, thumb running lazily over the cut, and squeezing it, forcing small droplets of blood to ooze out and down his face again. He grimaced, was he going to lick his face again? As if he called it, Ichigo watched helplessly as he saw red tongue reaching out for more blood, but it never met his skin. Something whooshed past Ichigo’s head, and the man ducked back with a single yelp. Ichigo noticed he was holding his shoulder—blood trickling down and soaking his jacket.</p><p>“Shoulda been more scared of me,” a low voice growled out, somewhere behind him. The strangers head shot up them, eyes wide, and clenched his teeth, taking a step back with stiff posture. Ichigo watched as he curled and uncurled his fist, like he was weighing his options. </p><p>“You…I thought you were dead.” It looked like the man was backing away father now, from what Ichigo could see through steadily fading vision. He felt his body start to sway, no longer able or willing to keep himself upright. He barely registered a flash of smoke, curling around the strange man who had poisoned him. A rancid smell reached his nose and he gagged, shoulders shaking with the effort it took to breathe.</p><p>“What a fuckin’ mess.” He heard the voice say, as he crashed to the ground in a pathetic heap. A sigh then. Ichigo could feel eyes on his vulnerable form. <em>I wish I’d never left,</em> he thought, miserable and embarrassed in his own growing weakness, struggling to keep brown eyes from shutting completely.  </p><p>“Guess you’re coming with me, kid,” the other voice said roughly, a strong hand grabbing him by the shoulder. Ichigo thought he caught the faint sight of blue hair as he was shifted around before everything went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Man in the Forest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ichigo wakes up and he's...not anywhere he recognizes. Who is the strange man who saved him, and why does he feel like shit?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oooooo guess who we get to meet! <br/>POV switch halfway through, I lemme know if it isn't clear. I think it is, but just in case if it's not!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was warm—surrounded by heat on all sides. Cracking a single eye open, Ichigo saw a fire burning in a small fireplace on the other side of the otherwise dark, bare room. Trying to blink sleep from his eyes and look around, he saw he was in a bed, a couple thick furs piled on top of him; for all he could see, which wasn’t much, he didn’t notice any windows in the one room he was in. A man was sitting on a chair near the fire, peeling something.</p>
<p>He had a black cloak draped across his shoulders, but the hood was down, revealing the most beautiful blue hair, illuminated by crackling firelight. Ichigo watched him work quietly, large hands working the knife with ease. Ichigo couldn’t see what he was wearing, other than the cloak, and a pair of dirty boots, pants tucked inside them. He hadn’t noticed Ichigo yet, it didn’t look like. At least his chest didn’t feel uncomfortably tight anymore—didn’t feel like he was going to throw up either. <em>Maybe the poison is gone?</em></p>
<p> Ichigo tried to sit up, but his cut arm throbbed. Everything else was numb. <em>And maybe not.</em> Ichigo sighed and looked back over to the stranger who had presumably saved him, and found he was looking back, eyes just as striking as his hair. He had faint marks under his eyes, but Ichigo couldn’t make out the color in the fire light—they seemed green, maybe?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Huh. Weird.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Awake now, huh?” the man gruffed out, voice low and rough. He turned his head back down and tore the skin of  what looked like an apple, barely hanging to the rest of it, throwing it into the fire. It took a minute for Ichigo to realize he could speak.  </p>
<p>“Uh…yeah.” Ichigo said dumbly, throat scratchy, and unable to tear his eyes away from the man, who was now slicing the apple into pieces.</p>
<p>“What…” Ichigo licked his chapped lips, and tried again. “How long—”</p>
<p>“Two days,” His limbs were starting to burn a little bit. Was that normal? Ichigo didn’t feel like it was normal, but he also didn’t make it a habit to get paralyzed. He sucked in a breath.  </p>
<p>“Where—”</p>
<p>“Forest still. What’s a prince doing all the way out here?” the man asked, cutting off Ichigo’s question, making his eye twitch in irritation, would he ever get a full sentence out? He still didn’t look at him, and Ichigo knew it didn’t take that much focus to cut up an apple.</p>
<p>“Tch,” Ichigo glared at the man still refusing to look at him. “Like it matters to you. I was riding my—” his eyes shot open “Wait, Zangetsu!” Ichigo struggled to sit up, thrashing around until he was semi-successfully sitting up on his elbows, head halfway rolling to the side. His eyes felt a little crossed. “My horse, black stallion, I sent him off—” The man grunted, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he bit into an apple slice.</p>
<p>“Out back. Been whining for you to wake up all day,” he crunched out. Ichigo grimaced as a piece dropped from the man’s mouth onto the floor. He picked it up, stared at it briefly, and put it back in his mouth, along with another slice.  </p>
<p>He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. At least his horse was safe, he wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to Zangetsu. Of course, they were both now entrusted into the care of a grouchy stranger. At least Zangetsu was more useful than Ichigo at this point, he’d surely be safe. Looking back at the man, who was now standing, walking slowly over to where he lay, eyes completely locked on his own, Ichigo swallowed. <em>He’s safe, but…I’m not sure I am. </em> Blue eyes bore into him, like he was trying to cut out a piece of his soul with a single look. It felt like it was working. Ichigo felt like a giant was lumbering up to him as his body hid the fireplace from his view.</p>
<p>“What would the Espada want with a worthless whelp like you?” Ichigo winced at the sheer distain in the words he spoke. He didn’t recognize that name, but his head was still fuzzy, limbs alternating between burning and numbness. Ichigo slipped off his elbows, pressing his back against the soft bed. He was still so tired. When would the paralysis wear off, anyway?</p>
<p>“What’s that?” Ichigo looked up at the man looming over him, watching how his Adams apple rolled into his skin as he swallowed. The marks under his eyes were <em>definitely</em> some shade of green-teal, but he’d need to see it in natural light to make sure. Did he draw them on himself, or were they a tattoo?<em> Who gets their face tattooed anyway? </em>The man reached down and slid a rough finger over the healing cut on his cheek, it burned. <em>There are probably other things I should be worried about right now. </em></p>
<p>“Tch. Weak and a fool. Winning combination.”</p>
<p>Ichigo’s eye twitched.</p>
<p>“What are you talking abo—”</p>
<p>“A prince who knows nothing of his kingdom is unworthy of a crown,” the man bit out, sneer curling his lips back, exposing unnaturally sharp teeth. Ichigo swallowed, suddenly afraid of their proximity.</p>
<p> Was he about to get his throat torn out by a madman hermit living in the woods? He was probably the one snacking on all the mushrooms Ichigo didn’t see. And judging by his monstrous size, he was snacking on some real <em>fuckin’ huge ones.</em></p>
<p>He leaned in, getting right in his face, breath ghosting over already sweating skin, hands planted on either side of his head. Ichigo tried to level a look at him, and as strong as he was, he knew at the moment, this man was much stronger. Ichigo twitched, the burning sensation traveling slowly up his arm. <em>Is it getting worse? </em>For a moment they just stared at eachother, rage evident in the pissed off man’s eyes; Ichigo could feel his fingers flexing into the blankets behind him, like he was holding back from absolutely wrecking his face.</p>
<p>Then he was up and walking away, leaving Ichigo almost cold in his absence. Heading towards what Ichigo assumed was a door, heard the turning of the knob.</p>
<p>“Have fun filtering out that poison—it’s a real bitch.” And he slammed the door. A faint whinny sounded, like the horse was startled. Or he wanted food. One of the two.</p>
<p>But Ichigo didn’t hear it. Focused now entirely on heat pouring into his body like he swallowed molten lava and chased it with the strongest alcohol known to man.</p>
<p>Fire tore at the cut in his arms and shot through his body in long, aching spasms; if he could’ve moved, Ichigo would’ve curled in on himself from the pain. It trembled angrily along the same path the poison did, radiating outward from the initial wound.</p>
<p>Searing pain scorched veins he hoped he’d still have after this was over; it was like he was being roasted over an inferno, torn open with thousands of heated needles, poking and prodding relentlessly into every part of his skin. Hands clawed into the bedsheets as best they could, digging into scratchy blankets, mattress felt stuffed with straw.<br/><br/></p>
<p> <em>Bitch doesn’t even begin to cover it. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a while, his body went numb again, eyes glazing over, watching as various visions drifted around his line of sight—faeries, mushrooms, a dancing girl that looked an awful lot like Yuzu. She twirled once when he stared at her for too long, and he felt his eyes cross. He was drenched in sweat by this point, the furs too much. But he couldn’t bring any strength to his arms to push them off. A little goat with his father’s face butted his head, sending a stab of pain straight through his skull. <em>You’re dreaming</em>, it bleated in horrible little voice. If Ichigo could’ve rolled his eyes, he would’ve.</p>
<p> He tried to suppress a pitiful whimper as another round of liquid fire rolled through his body in waves, lapping even the darkest areas of his fading consciousness. Maybe he could fall back asleep if he focused on something else? Breath hitching uncomfortably in his chest, sweat building up once more on his hairline, his neck, he wracked his aching brain for anything that would take his mind away somewhere else. As everything faded to black, all he could see were two lake-blue eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>More time passed between his lazy blinks, dozing in and out of a burning sleep. Sometimes he was awake when he thought he was asleep, other times he thought himself asleep when he was just barely awake. He thought he heard a voice, muttering something about the moon, an apple, so, so many annoying goats and how pointy their horns were, smothering furs…. but the more Ichigo listened, the more it sounded like his voice. Was he talking to himself? He watched a line of dancing mushrooms wiggle past his hooded line of sight, fuzzy and trembling. Apparently so. Blinking only brought more lapses in pain, some better, some worse. The tingling burn constant even in unconsciousness.</p>
<p>Sitting up suddenly and sucking in a clean lungful of cold air, he saw the woman. She sat beside him, or maybe she knelt—his vision still blurry. But her hair was familiar.</p>
<p> Wavy.</p>
<p> Thick.</p>
<p> Orange-brown. She smiled at him. Kind eyes. Green dress. Long sleeves.</p>
<p> No blood. No blood this time.</p>
<p>She was always bloody in his dreams. Nightmares were worse. It was always a nightmare, the darkness. Not a dream? His head spun, as he squinted, trying to get a better look at her, even though she was <em>right fuckin’ there.</em> Why was she so fuzzy? Was he forgetting what she looked like?  </p>
<p>“M…Mom?” Ichigo croaked out.</p>
<p>She pushed him back, gently, until he was flat on his back again. <em>Why was her hand so rough?</em> <em>Dad would have a cow.</em> A cool, damp cloth was placed on his head, vision tunneling, darkening around the edges. She was years dead, he knew, but still couldn’t help the hopeful note that slipped into his voice. Consciousness fading into darkness again, cloth cold on his forehead soothing him somewhat, he closed his eyes, sparing a last look at the woman he knew would be gone when he woke up.</p>
<p> He couldn’t forget her face.</p>
<p>Never. A sigh.  </p>
<p>“Not quite, kid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------------------------</p>
<p>Why he took the brat back to his little shack he didn’t know. Briefly he remembered how Szayel had called him a prince. <em>Tch, great. That means high maintenance.</em> Throwing back the covers on his shitty bed, he threw the boy down, a mess of lean gangly limbs, and covered him up again, unfurling a couple furs he used for the coldest winter nights on top of the blanket.</p>
<p> He recognized the crest stitched into the leather band across the kid’s chest; twin dragons with connected tails, flying above a blooming flower: the Kingdom of Karakura. <em>Fuckin’ great.</em> Then he just stared at him and his dumb orange hair; idiot stuck out like a sore thumb, especially in a forest growing in shades of <em>blue</em>. A head like that was practically asking for trouble to find him. <em>Stupid, sheltered little shit. </em>He’d be down a day at the least, hopefully not much longer. He knew the kid wouldn’t be safe for much more than that.</p>
<p>After he got the orange haired idiot settled in <em>his</em> bed, he set to work on finding that damned horse. It was the first thing that alerted him something was wrong, as he remembered how it sped past him while he was getting ready to hunt—didn’t see horses like that in the forest. Either it belonged to some snobby rich shit who got lost, thinking <em>through</em> was faster than <em>around</em>, or someone had tried to steal it with the same result. Rolling his eyes at the thought, he pulled up his hood, covering a mess of vibrant blue. It was always better if he could blend into the darkness instead of stand out. The sun was low in the sky, hidden by the budding trees, casting the forest in long shadows of dark blue and black.</p>
<p>It didn’t take much doing—returned to the scene where it fled, looking for its owner, he’d guessed. That or it went to get help, and decided he was it. Damn near dark by the time he’d gotten there, though. <em>What a pain in the ass.</em> If it turned out the brat knew <em>shit for nothing, </em>he was gonna keep it. Least he could get something outta this whole mess. He whistled when he saw it; beast was a damn fine horse. He’d never seen one so pitch black before. An omen with hooves. Horse knew he was there too, narrowing big dark eyes at him, like it was actually <em>glaring</em> at him. He noticed a large rock to his left and sat on it, waiting for the horse to come to him. It didn’t take long.</p>
<p>“He’s with me now Blackie,” he said as the horse toed closer to him, sniffing the air around him. Kid was all sweaty by the time he got him to the shack, horse could probably smell his scent. It snorted at him, as if in disbelief, rearing its head at him, showing a faint white spot on his neck. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged and messed with a strap on his boot, twisting it farther on his leg. He hated his feet getting wet, and these boots were gonna have holes in them soon. At least the ground was pretty dry; once the rains started, he was in for a shitty time. He hated the rain.</p>
<p> “Come see for yourself if ya don’t believe me, ya prissy horse.”</p>
<p>And that was that. He stood and started walking back, quietly listening for the sound of something following him. A heavy head landed on his shoulder, startling him slightly. <em>Damn, that was fast.</em> Grabbing the dangling reigns, he led the way back to the cabin. Throwing a glace back at its strong body, it didn’t look like it had been saddled, so there was no need to look for it. Not that he’d give it back anyway, a fancy saddle would fetch a pretty penny.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right now, he was sitting on the only stool he had, next to a spitting fire peeling an apple, one that gluttonous horse hadn’t managed to swallow hole, the damn pig. Beast demolished nearly all of the fruit he’d stored, much to his irritation. He’d briefly toyed with the idea of killing and eating it, that would save him from hunting for a couple weeks, but if he ever wanted the brat’s cooperation, that was out of the question. He <em>really</em> hoped the kid knew something useful, and his head wasn’t full of rocks like he’d assumed it would be.</p>
<p>He continued peeling as he noticed the brat stirring. <em>Finally. </em>Madman must’ve put a double dose of poison on that arrow. He remembered coming to within half a day.   </p>
<p>Glancing over at him, he was met with dark eyes starting, scrutinizing him.</p>
<p>“Awake now, huh?” he asked. <em>Damn, was that my voice?</em> It sounded pretty rough from disuse. Well, whatever. He liked the silence better anyway. Looking down at his wrist, his eyes glazed when he saw the moon phase—waning crescent—and frowned. Idiot took forever to answer, and when he did, he sounded dopey, like he was drunk.</p>
<p>“Uh…yeah.” He looked back to the apple. He could smell the boy’s sweat from all the way where he was sitting, and while it was a stronger musk, he found he didn’t really mind it. Better than smelling like a shitty horse.</p>
<p>“What…” kid croaked out. He wasn’t looking forward to the stupid questions.</p>
<p>“How long—”</p>
<p>“Two days,” he said, cutting him off.</p>
<p>“Where—”</p>
<p>“Forest still,” he growled out. Useless shit. “What’s a prince doing all the way out here?” More importantly, what side was he from? Neither side trudged through the forest unless they were truly desperate or downright stupid. He’d suspected it was the latter for this one. Unless that leather band was just for show. And <em>why</em> was he here?</p>
<p>“Tch.” Kid scoffed. <em>Bingo,</em> he mused, throwing the peel into the fire, a sweet, crisp smell arising from the fire licking at the discarded bit. He hated the way they caught in his teeth.</p>
<p>“Like it matters to you. I was riding my—” He watched as the kid started to flail, well, tried to flail anyway. Looked more like two slugs wrestling over a grape. “—Zangetsu!” Huh, so that was the horse’s name. No wonder it didn’t like it when he called it blackie, with a name like that. Royal horse indeed. He threw an apple slice into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Out back,” he jutted his thumb behind him, as if the horse was right next to him, “Been whining for you to wake up all day.” He picked up a stray chuck that fell out of his mouth and flung it back in, not wanting to waste anything, and stood to his full height. Knowing he was blocking out the firelight as he approached the boy in his bed, he did nothing to try and appear less intimidating. Kid was in <em>his</em> house, shitty as it was, in <em>his</em> bed, and completely at <em>his</em> mercy. He damn well should be intimidated.</p>
<p>But he could also tell the kid was starting to come out of his paralysis by the way he was sweating. It was nowhere near that hot in the drafty room. <em>Damn Szayel and his damn poison.</em> He sure didn’t miss that freakshow. Didn’t miss any of them, really. He thumbed the cut on the boy’s cheek; it was already scabbing over. He focused the faintest bit of magic into his finger, searing it closed for good. With any luck, it would scar. This close, he could smell him stronger now; and he knew he should’ve been more concerned why he didn’t <em>dislike</em> the smell; he had a pretty face, not that it mattered.</p>
<p> “What would the Espada want with a worthless whelp like you?”</p>
<p>Kid just looked at him a second, like he was trying to memorize him.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” <em>Fuckin’ damnit.</em></p>
<p>“Tch. Weak and a fool. Winning combination.” Of course, it was his shitty luck to get stuck someone who knew shit for nothing. Useless moron. He <em>was</em> a prince, right? What kind of prince knew nothing of the goings on outside their castle? His eye twitched. Then again, he’d yet to meet any kind of royalty that actually cared about their people. Self-righteous bastards.</p>
<p>“What are you talking abo—”</p>
<p>“A prince who knows nothing of his kingdom is unworthy of a crown,” he spit out, leaning in closer, planting a hand on either side of the brats’ head. He could feel his anger flare—what a sheltered little shit. Probably never worked a day in his life, riding his little horse around like he was king of the countryside, safe a secure in his little guarded castle, watching as people suffered and died in pointless conflicts he’d probably started. <em>Ain’t no ruler in these woods, kid, </em>he thought. <em>Try any a’that shit with me, an’ I’ll rip your throat out.</em></p>
<p>He tore away from the boy, knowing he’d sooner strangle him than say anything else, and headed towards the door in the back. Turing to look at the kid one last time, he left him with a warning.</p>
<p>“Have fun filtering out that poison—it’s a real bitch.”</p>
<p>And he was out the door, listening to that damned horse complain about apples, or the lack thereof. Walking up to him, he swiped a hand down the length of his body. Horse preened at the contact, needy bastard, and he went to sit under a tree next to the side of the shack. There were less trees in this area, letting the small crescent moon peek over the tallest branches. He thumbed over his wrist again, fingering the tattoo. <em>Good thing I found him yesterday,</em> he thought. As soon as the kid sweat out the rest, he’d send him packing on his dumb horse. Speaking of….</p>
<p>The horse—Zangetsu was his name?—trotted over to him as he leaned his back farther against the tree, nudging his shoulder with a large, wet snout. He grimaced, looking at the snot residue left on his cloak, and glared up at the beast.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you canter in to a ravine,” he growled, rubbing snotted-on shoulder on the truck of the tree. Zangetsu did it again, out of spite, he guessed. He grabbed ahold of the dangling reigns and let him pull him up, running a hand up his long face as he did so. He sighed, peering at the moon once more, deep in thought. His water supply was running low, and with the sick kid sweating it out in his bed, he’d need to get more and soon. The only good thing about the rain is that he didn’t need to go fetch water like some fuckin’ milkmaid.</p>
<p> <em>Should take the horse, that’d be the fastest way, </em>he thought. <em>Well, second fastest. </em>He was more powerful in the dark, but the animal instincts were dangerous in their calls, even during the fullest of moons. Looking at the horse again, reigns still in hand, he clicked his teeth together a couple times, canine teeth a little sharper that usual. He needed to get water, for the kid as well as himself. <em>No time like the present</em>, he snarled quietly.</p>
<p>“Think you can get me to the springs?” he asked the horse. He was met with pooled black eyes, staring right into him. Raising an eyebrow, he half expected the horse to actually say something to him; it was obviously intelligent. He tried again.</p>
<p>“Zangetsu. That’s your name, right? Kid uhh…gave me…permission,” he lied, looking the horse straight in his eyes, gripping the reigns tighter. “And he’ll be needin’ water soon; less you want’em flopping around on ya like a dead fish when I send’em packin’.”  </p>
<p>The horse huffed, but seemed to recognize his name. He gave it a couple minutes to sink in, Zangetsu looked like he was deep in thought, as deep a thinker as a horse could be, anyway. Horse eyed him then, and seemed to make up his mind, walking past him, giving access to his back.</p>
<p>He hesitated a little, but ultimately grabbed the two waterskins by his feet, <em>let’s get this over with.</em> It had been quite some time since he’d ridden a horse, let alone bareback, but whatever, he’d deal. Slinging the skin straps around his neck, hanging crisscrossed across his chest, he tucked them both under an arm. Stepping back up to the black body, he placed a hand right above the horse’s withers. Inhaling deeply, he put weight into one foot, steadying himself, and slung it up, up, nearly over the horses back. Kicking his other foot off the ground and grabbing the horse around its neck, he balanced himself on its back before sitting up completely. Beast was a tall fucker. <em>Well, at least getting up wasn’t an issue.</em> Twisting the reigns between his hands, he listened as Zangetsu whined beneath him.</p>
<p>“What’d ya expect? ‘Course I’m heavier compared to that twig,” he said, glaring down at him. Horse whined a little more, stamping his hooves on the ground, throwing a small tantrum. He rolled his eyes, <em>‘course kid would havea horse as high-strung as ‘im. </em></p>
<p>“Come on, fat-ass, it’s this way.”</p>
<p>Zangetsu pouted a little more, but ultimately listened to his command, thankfully, trotting off in the direction he indicated.</p>
<p> <em>Whoever trained’em did a damn good job,</em> he thought absently, as he led the horse deeper into the forest. He lived close enough to the small clearing in the center, but walking at night was a foolish way to die, especially in this moon phase, shit effected everything living in the damn forest. The wolves for one, made them a hell of a lot more savage. Usually they’d run off when faced with a bigger predator, but not when the moon was a sliver in the sky, barely lighting the way to his destination.</p>
<p>Riding Zangetsu, he felt like he was atop a monstrous shadow beast, weaving in, out and through darkness coating the spaces between trees, slithering between blackness like he was riding a snake instead. If he had to wager a guess, he’d bet someone had enchanted the horse’s hooves; he couldn’t hear a single noise from the trot. Only thing he could hear were far-off cries.</p>
<p>He snapped his head around, listening to distant howls of those shitty dark wolves that called this forest home. One of those bloodsuckers wasn’t a problem; a pack was a different story. Horse could outrun them if he needed, since he <em>really</em> didn’t want to chance his other options right now. Crescent burned on his wrist, a cursed reminder.</p>
<p>Horse whinnied impatiently as it watched him gather the water, stamping a foot loudly. He glared at its hooves, watching as red sparks flew from its abuse of the ground. Narrowing his eyes, he figured it was some kind of sound enchantment. He’d never been good at any of the sneaky ones, always preferring the upfront magic, if he had to use any. Flexing his hand into a fist, he focused his energy, leather bracers glowing a faint purple, and smirked.</p>
<p>The springs water was pure; he knew he probably shouldn’t be using it for anything since it was supposed to be <em>sacred</em> or whatever the fuck the townies called it. He rolled his eyes as he rolled his pant legs back down, pulling socks and worn boots on. <em>They’d shit themselves if they knew what I do with it,</em> he thought, grinning wickedly. Slinging a leg over the horse again, skins slung over one arm and dripping slightly over the horses flank, he righted himself and yanked on the reins. Horse got him there no problem, pretty quickly too. He was there and back in a little over an hour, skins sloshing, full under his cloak.</p>
<p>Wolf cries were closer as he approached his shack, but still not a threat. He’d hunt those fuckers soon enough. Dismounting the horse, he walked over to a sheltered side of the shack and pulled out some hay from a barrel and dropped it at the horse’s feet. It was way too scratchy for him to use as bedding anyway. Zangetsu let out a pleased whinny as he went around to the door side, and pushed it open. The dimness of the room told him the fire needed more wood.</p>
<p>Stopping to unlace his boots, he threw them beside the door, and hung his ragged cloak on a nail jutting out of the wood opposite of the door, careful not to punch through the fabric…again. He’d done that one too many times and didn’t own any needles or thread because he wasn’t a <em>fuckin’ chick, thanks.</em></p>
<p>Stealing a glace at the kid in his bed as he trudged over to the fireplace. Throwing a couple nice sized logs on the fire, he heard the kid say something. <em>Awake already? </em>That was faster than he thought. He listened closer then, walking quietly over to the side of the bed, dragging the rickety stool with him and sitting it near the head. He was panting like a whore, face flushed in a feverish dream-state. Tch. <em>Must be one hell of a hallucination. </em></p>
<p>For a while he just watched his lips move, spouting nonsense about goats and mushrooms. <em>What the fuck?</em> Eyes opened and shut periodically, but were glazed over in a hazy cloud every time he peered into them, like murky water. Looking more closely at the boy, he was probably older than he gave him credit for. His face wasn’t pudgy like some dumb kid, but instead sharper, high cheekbones, freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and around the corners of his eyes. Pulling down the furs a little, exposing his neck and top of his collar bones, shirt drenched with sweat, he saw lean, corded muscles, and his hands weren’t as soft as he’d expected. <em>Looks like sword callouses.</em> The boy muttered something about…an apple and…a fairy? <em>Maybe he’s drunk and poisoned.</em></p>
<p>Pulling a small green cloth out from under the bed, he uncorked the skin and wet the thin cloth between his fingers, corking it when it was damp, but not drenched. <em>What a pain in the ass. </em> </p>
<p>The boy shot up like an arrow, startling him, dropping the skin to the floor with a soft thud. Kid looked right at him, but didn’t look like he was actually seeing him. He remembered his own hallucinations from Szayel’s shitty little poison concoction—lots of blood, teeth, carnage…some sex thrown in too. His visions hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, come to think of it, but that was years ago. Thinking back to it, a small spark of lust coiled in his stomach, but it was quashed a moment later.</p>
<p>“M…Mom?” He rolled his eyes, scoffing that kid was calling for his mother. <em>How pathetic.</em> He felt the cool cloth in his hands, switching his eyes over to the kid and stilled. <em>Is…is he crying?</em> Looking away for a moment, he raised a hand to the kid’s chest, flattening his palm against a slick shirt. <em>How can one person sweat so fuckin’ much? How is he not a damn raisin? </em></p>
<p>Gently pushing him back onto the bed, eyes still glassy and unfocused, he placed the cloth on his forehead. <em>What the hell kinda dream are you having,</em> he wondered, running his other hand through wild blue hair.</p>
<p>“Not quite, kid,” he said, running a hand over his forehead, trying to imitate a soothing motion. It wasn’t very successful. S<em>oon as this fever breaks, he’s gone,</em> he thought planting a hand on his cheek, elbow resting on the side of the bed, watching as the kid flitted between half-consciousness and restless sleep.</p>
<p>This was going to be a long night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Ichigo is having quite a sucky time at it, huh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Worry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Awaking again from a sweat filled waste-land nightmare of a night, Ichigo finds himself somewhere else, again, not knowing how he arrived. Did the blue haired man drop him off? Was he still around? And who the hell was yelling?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo woke up to familiar screaming. Cracking open an eye and sitting up, his throat didn’t burn like he was swallowing molten lava. The tingling was gone—his body no longer on fire. He also noticed the screaming was closer, and belonged to Uryu.</p><p>“Where in the absolute <em>hell</em> have you been Kurosaki!” he could make out. Tall lean man was pacing back and forth, yelling the same or similar things over and over again. Ichigo rolled his eyes; it was still dark outside, he noticed. Wait. <em>Outside? How am I—</em>he rolled his head on the ground, finding familiar stone gates and torch lights illuminating the inner wall of the castle. He was back home.</p><p><em>How did I get back here? </em>Rubbing his temples, he tried to remember anything after falling back asleep with limbs aflame in a stranger’s bed. Man with pink hair, poisoned arrow, vibrant blue hair, sound of horse hooves thundering across rough ground; his head hurt. He brushed a finger over the cut on his cheek, but it was gone—completely healed. A last sizzling spark of red flew out in front of his face angrily; his lips curled into a slight frown.</p><p>Uryu sped past him, still raving about—Ichigo didn’t know. His words were all muffled and panicked, half hidden by his hands. The words he could make out …<em>Sovereignty, soldiers, the King….</em> Whatever. Looking around, Ichigo still wondered how he’d gotten back. Yeah, the castle wasn’t exactly an impenetrable fortress, hell, his father had tried to make it as welcoming as possible by tearing down a couple walls, but knowing someone could just waltz up and drop him off like an unwanted royal bag of potatoes was…unnerving.</p><p>Unless he got back himself?  That seemed pretty unlikely, but he had definitely slept walked before, a few times after his mother died. Shaking his head, he couldn’t take Uryu’s pacing much longer, and pushed his hands back on the ground behind him.</p><p>“Will you shut the hell up,” Ichigo grumbled out, trying to stand on his feet, faltering a little. “You’re giving me a headache.” He felt a large hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he finally stood on weakened legs. Throwing a glance over his shoulder he saw his longtime friend and arguably, the best horse trainer in the whole kingdom.</p><p>“Where were you Ichigo?” Chad asked, concern evident in his voice, not removing his hand from Ichigo’s shoulder. “We were worried.”  </p><p>“Ah, sorry Cha—”</p><p>“Do you realize how close your father is to sending soldiers to march on the Seireitei?” Uryu’s voice cracked a little. Ichigo rolled his eyes, face twitching, looking at the night sky and its ocean of stars. Twinkling through grasping clouds, clawing over the castle and the town below. Ichigo frowned; it looked like the rains would be here soon. After winter, that was his least favorite weather.</p><p>“What’re you—”</p><p>“You could’ve at <em>least</em> left a <em>note, tell someone. Something!” </em>Uryu yelled, throwing up his hands, like the gesture was supposed to drive his point home. Ichigo felt a headache coming on.</p><p>“Uryu, maybe you need to cal—”</p><p>“Don’t tell me to calm down, Chad! This is serious!”</p><p>“Maybe I should get—” Chad left Ichigo’s side, turning to Uryu, hands up, like he was taming a wild beast instead of a panicking archer with a sewing complex.</p><p>“Yes, go get His Majesty, along with the advisor, his sorcerer, and the bodyguard! They need to know immediately! Wake up the whole damned castle if you have to!”</p><p>“Uryu, I was gonna offer you like a glass of water or—”</p><p>“I don’t need that,” Uryu yelled, veins throbbing in his scrawny, pale neck, fists clenched at his sides. “I need you to go get <em>them</em>!”</p><p>Ichigo watched the two bicker back and forth, testing his legs. Uryu was being difficult, and Chad was acting as the sole voice of reason is the entire damned castle, <em>as per usual,</em> Ichigo thought with a groan. Chad could talk down a wild beast, be it animal or human, with such ease, and there always seemed to be one following him around. Urahara called him the resident animal whisperer. Right now there was a little black cat weaving between his legs as he left to fetch the whole damn household. <em>Thanks a lot, Uryu,</em> he thought, glaring at the glasses clad man. He didn’t want to be left alone with him, <em>he’s just gonna yell at me some more,</em> Ichigo thought.</p><p>Ichigo’s own legs didn’t seem to be shaking, so that was a good sign at least. He glanced back at Uryu, who looked like he was going to stroke out. <em>What an idiot.</em> Ichigo sighed. At least he wasn’t seeing visions of his mother anymore. He remembered that too, the feeling of her rough hands running through his hair, removing the weighty furs, the cooling cloth laid across his sweating forehead. The dream had felt so real, like she was <em>right there.</em></p><p>Uryu got up in his space immediately, putting a hand on either shoulder. His face was serious as he spoke with a calmness Ichigo hadn’t heard since he woke up.</p><p>“Seriously, Ichigo, where were you? We were all worried about you. You father freaked; sisters scoured for you all across town; Orihime stress cooked so much bread. And some of it was actually edible. It was terrible.”</p><p>“I was…” How could he describe it? <em>I ran away for a little bit cuz Dad’s a nosey bastard, but got caught by a guy with pink hair, saved by a man with blue hair and I sweat a lot in his bed. </em>Ichigo tried to remember his face, the man who saved him, but everything was still fuzzy. He thought he remembered broad shoulders, tall, black cloak. The only things set in stone were those piercing, blue eyes. A slight shiver went down his spine. He shook his head, and changed the subject.</p><p>“Is Zangetsu here too?”</p><p>“Chad found him wandering around the courtyard neighing. He’s fine. You must’ve fallen off his back or something. Chad took him back to the stables to rest.” Uryu crinkled up his nose. “You smell terrible.”</p><p><em>I’ve been sweating for like three days straight, of course I smell like shit,</em> Ichigo thought. Well, at least his horse was unharmed. He felt some tension drain from his sore shoulders. Uryu didn’t say anything more, as they both waited, but continued to pace. <em>Nervous bastard.</em></p><p>Chad came back with his father and a grinning Urahara in tow.</p><p>Isshin threw himself at his son, elbow out, leg hoisted high in the air. Ichigo groaned internally.</p><p>“Ichigooooooo!”</p><p>Ichigo sidestepped, letting his father fall on the ground like the royal idiot he was, and rubbed his hands on his face, starting to feel drained of all energy. For sleeping the better part of two days, he was exhausted. <em>Guess being poisoned will do that to you.</em></p><p>“My goodness, dear Ichigo, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”</p><p>Ichigo smiled weakly at him in agreement. He really wasn’t wanting to talk about anything tonight. Thinking back, other than the freak who shot the arrow, he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t make the whole thing up, and drag himself back. Maybe he just collapsed and half-way slept walked/poison-rose-his-horse back. <em>But then how did I get away from him?</em></p><p>“Look, I appreciate your concern, but can we talk about this in the morning? I’m exhausted,” he sniffed himself and made a disgusted face. “And I need to bathe.”</p><p>His father opened his mouth.</p><p>“Look, I’m fine, aren’t I? The Seireitei had nothing to do with anything.” <em>That I know of,</em> Ichigo added internally. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”</p><p>“Son,” his father started, a serious look on his face. “You can be honest with me.” Ichigo stiffened. Damn his father for always knowing more than he let on. <em>Actually, it’s probably because of Urahara.</em> That man had spies everywhere. Ichigo doubted he could take a shit without being watched, let alone go galivanting through the forest on a horse with hooves the advisor enchanted himself. <em>Zan’s probably been the spy all along, the bastard.</em></p><p>“You were out sewing your wild oats!!” his father yelled triumphantly, “Becoming a man!” Fist pumping the air a few times, Isshin turned to Ichigo, goofy smile plastered on his stubbly face. “Especially after our last discussion! Ichigo you don’t need to hide such things from me, my boy!” Feeling his eye twitch at his father, who had his arms outstretched and was walking towards him, Ichigo deadpanned to Urahara, who was hiding half his face behind his usual green diamond pattered fan. He ignored the impending hug from his deranged father and started walking towards the courtyard. Isshin was not dissuaded by his actions.</p><p>“Letting your hormones get the better of you is all well and fine, but <em>three days—"</em> Isshin whistled, “How many—"</p><p>“I’m not talking to you until tomorrow, and maybe not then either,” Ichigo threw across his shoulder, flipping off the man as he left.</p><p>Ichigo heard the tell-tale slap of something hitting his father. <em>Urahara’s fan, probably.</em> Shaking his head, he continued all the way into the castle, passing stone columns on either side as he entered. Through the corridor, twisting and turning until he looked towards the stairs leading to his quarters.</p><p> </p><p> Chad followed him, silent as always, all the way into the castle, until Ichigo was standing before the winding wooden staircase. He still had a concerned look on his face, at least, that’s what it appeared to be, it was hard to tell with the mans mop of messy brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ichigo raised up a hand and ruffled his hair, nearly standing on his tip toes to reach, smiling to himself.</p><p>“You should get Orihime to cut your hair, it’s getting long again.” Chad said nothing, but seemed to relax under the friendly gesture.</p><p>“I’m fine Chad, I promise. Thanks for taking care of Zangetsu for me.” Chad nodded, putting another large hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”</p><p>“Know that we’re here for you, Ichigo. Whatever it is.” Ichigo patted his hand twice.</p><p>“I know, Chad. Thanks.” Ichigo watched as he turned and started walking back down the hallway. He should probably go and say something to his sisters and Orihime, but he was just so tired. Surely, they could wait until the morning? <em>What time even is it?</em></p><p>Dragging his aching body up the stairs, he opened the door to his bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom. The castle was old, but Urahara, being a master of the arcane arts, as well as his father’s personal brain to pick, had enchanted quite a few things to make life a little easier around the castle. The baths for one, which Ichigo was eternally grateful for. The man had managed to run hot water in through pipe-like fixtures, up into a hollow disk retainer with tiny holes in it, which sprayed directly down into the copper tub, showering him in water as hot as he wanted. The enchantments were on the two handles on either side, one for pressure, the other for temperature, it was amazing. Even if he didn’t use the spray, he could still run the water into the tub and clean himself that way.</p><p>Though baths were kind of relaxing, he wanted to sleep soon, so showering in as hot of water as he could stand, scrubbing his sore body methodically clean, was the direction he went. He made sure to scour every crevice of skin free of sweat and grime, especially under his fingernails. Callouses on his palms almost always were a little darker, no matter how hard he washed.</p><p>Stepping out of the bath, he dried himself with a linen towel, and put on a pair of lose fitting, silky pants. His bed was a hell of a lot softer than the crusty dump that barely counted as a bed the blue-haired weirdo put him in. As he settled in, bringing the covers over himself and letting the dark wash over him, his mind wandered.</p><p>That man in the forest, the blue-eyed one, was he even real?</p><p> If he was, was he really a bad guy? <em>He did basically save me, right? An enemy wouldn’t have done that. </em></p><p>His appearance was still kind of fuzzy, but the harder Ichigo tried to remember, the more details were becoming clearer. The teal-green tattoos under his sharp, almost cat-like eyes. Thin brows. Strong, defined jaw, pointed chin. Ichigo thought he remembered a faint, but jagged scar cut along the right side of his jaw, almost meeting his ear.</p><p><em>Attractive,</em> Ichigo decided. <em>Very attractive.</em> He felt a wave of embarrassment coarse through him then; hated it when people saw him so weak and useless. Of course, the person to help him when he was in such a state was built like a impenetrable fortress with a damn fine face. Ichigo shook his head, red faced, and pulled the covers above him, hiding like a child.</p><p>And who was that pink haired man? Espada? Why did blue think Ichigo knew about them? <em>Maybe the pink guy thought I was him? No, that can’t be right.</em> Pink knew his <em>name.</em> Knew he was a <em>prince.</em> But his leather band probably had the kingdom’s crest. Maybe Zangetsu was a giveaway? Normal people didn’t own horses of his caliber—especially with his particular brand of bratty personality.</p><p>Every question that swirled around in Ichigo’s head only added to the weight behind his eyes. Right now he just wanted to rest. Closing his eyes, he hoped he didn’t dream of blood again. He was tired of the nightmares.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------</p><p>It was a weight thrown across him that roused Ichigo up from a restless slumber with a jolt. Cracking open an eye, it felt like he hadn’t gotten any sleep.</p><p>
  <em>Damn these dreams.</em>
</p><p>This time he sat tied to a tree, watching as those damn forest wolves devoured splintering bones he somehow <em>knew </em>belonged to his mother. In this one, like all the others, when he tried to scream, nothing came out.</p><p>Trying to distance himself from another meaningless night terror, he looked towards the weight on his chest.  </p><p>“Why didn’t you wake us up?!” It was Yuzu, snotting and crying all over his bedcovers. Karin was beside her, looking the grouchiest he’d ever seen her. <em>Oh shit.</em></p><p>“Hey Yuzu, Karin,” He rubbed the back of his head, body still stiff and sore. He knew he should’ve said something to them. “I’m sorry, it was late, and I didn’t want to wake yo—”</p><p>“Bullshit.” Karin cut him off, glaring daggers right at him. Ichigo sighed at the sight.</p><p>“Like we were sleeping anyway!” Yuzu cried, wrapping her skinny arms around him, sniffing into his shoulder. <em>This is a losing battle from every side.</em> He patted Yuzu on her head and gave her a small smile. Karin, too.</p><p>“You’ve been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours!”</p><p>Ichigo’s eyes widened. <em>What?</em> But it felt like he just went to sleep an hour ago. That couldn’t possibly be right. Why was he so tired, then? <em>Damn these nightmares,</em> he cursed again.</p><p>“Dad made us leave you alone all of yesterday, but I couldn’t’ take it anymore!” Yuzu shouted, rolling around in the bed; Ichigo looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips.</p><p>“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t’ve worried them. He knew he would regret it, but he did it anyway, and now they were upset at him, on top of being worried for three days straight. <em>You’re a fuckin’ poor excuse of a brother,</em> he cursed internally.</p><p>They both watched him then, eyes serious. “I promise. If I’m ever gone that long again, I’ll wake you as soon as I get back.” He made an x right above his heard with a finger. “Promise.”</p><p>Yuzu seemed content at that and went back to crying into his chest. Karin relaxed a little, but still looked grouchy. <em>I wonder how early it is.</em> He figured he should probably meet with his father, as soon as he could, but his stomach made a few interesting sounds.</p><p>“Wana have breakfast together?” he asked his sisters. They looked at him in surprise. It had been ages since he’d eaten with them, he usually chose to forego breakfast altogether. But his sisters needed to know he was there, and he wasn’t going to leave again any time soon. Blue eyes flashed in his mind, but he forced them closed. <em>No.</em> Ichigo would think about that later. Right now was family time, whether he wanted it or not. Maybe his father wouldn’t be up and make things all weird.</p><p>Yuzu sniffed, rubbing her silken sleeve across her nose, leaving a dark trail of tears and snot staining it. Ichigo chuckled lightly, ruffling his sister’s soft bedhead. She swatted his hand away and attempted to put in in some kind of place.</p><p>“Only if I can cook it.” Yuzu said with finality. Karin nodded vigorously, sitting on the bed next to Yuzu, who had thrown herself across Ichigo.</p><p>“Yes please. I love Orihime, but I’ve gotten explosive diarrhea one too many times from her kitchen experiments.” Karin added point her thumb down and sticking out her tongue. Ichigo shuddered.</p><p>“Way too much info,” Ichigo said, laughing and pulling at her low ponytail.</p><p>She smacked him away before picking at her fraying sleeves. She tilted her head to the side, considering the tiny threads.</p><p>“You think Uryu could make me a new sleepshirt? This one has holes in the armpits.” She raised her arm to show off her point, pale bare skin radiating through her navy pajamas, displaying a large hole, dipping low to her ribcage, in the shirt.</p><p>“Only if you decide you like ribbons and bows and frilly stuff.”</p><p>“I like those things!” Yuzu added, wiggling around until her head was in Ichigo’s lap. Karin rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Good, I’ll have him make something in Ichigo’s size, then,” he looked at his chest, the rest of his body hidden by covers and Yuzu. “You’d look really good in a corset with thigh—"</p><p>“Do that and I’ll dump horse shit in your bed,” he threatened. Yuzu slapped his thigh with the back of her hand for the language. Karin shoved him down on himself, folding him like he was some cheap accordion, which was insulting. He was definitely an expensive one.</p><p>“I’m serious,” he muffled out, “Zangetsu’s shits are massive, like the size of my—”</p><p>“<em>Ichigooo.”</em> Yuzu sounded like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “Let’s go Karin, we need to get dressed.” She hopped off him, grabbing Karin’s hand, and drug her to the door.</p><p>“You’ve got ten minutes to get dressed, or we’re gonna have Orihime make you a pancake with pickles and soy sauce!” Ichigo paled. <em>Hell no.</em> <em>Not again.</em> That was the other reason he didn’t eat breakfast half the time.</p><p>As soon as the door closed, Ichigo threw off the covers and ran to his wardrobe. His father had wanted his children to appear as normal as possible, <em>because he’s a freak I guess,</em> though the girls could get away with more, Ichigo knew. Isshin was just mad Ichigo looked better in a cape than he ever would, even though Ichigo hated capes. It was just as well, he figured.</p><p> He preferred more plainclothes anyway, it was easier to blend in to the townspeople. Pulling out a loose-fitting tunic with cinched cuffs, and a pair of trousers, he got dressed quickly. Tucking the shirt into trousers, he quickly did the laces on his claves, holding the pants in place on his legs. Finally, he pulled on thick wool socks, boots reaching mid-calf, and slid his blet around his waist. A knock at his door.</p><p>“I’m coming already, geez,” he said, walking towards the door. “And that wasn’t ten minutes!”</p><p><em>Wait.</em> He backtracked to the end of his bed, where his sword rested on top of an old trunk, and grabbed it. A guard-less katana, contained within a solid black sheath, with black silk wrappings. The more he practiced with a guarded sword, the more he hated them. It drove Shinji crazy, but that wasn’t exactly a difficult thing, especially since he was practically living in loon-vile already. Especially with his snaggle toothed lieutenant following him around and smacking him with varying shoes. Her favorite shoe to abuse the man with this month had been a big rubber boot with a hole right where the big toe would be. She had filled it with rocks more than once.  </p><p>He slid it through the fastenings of his belt and walked back to the door, opening it to see his sisters frowning. Yuzu was wearing a flowy blue skirt that reached mid-calf, yellow tunic tucked inside, and belted at the waist, a wide-banded cloth the same color as the skirt, simple flowers embroidered along the hem of the skirt. Karin was dressed a little more casually, and definitely less ladylike. Cherry red tunic tucked into black, cloth belted trousers, cinched at the ankle, and dark socks. He raised an eyebrow at her, their father would have a cow, but he couldn’t care less. That style fitted her more than any gown ever would.   </p><p>  “Alright, alright, I’m ready, let’s go,” he said, closing his door, laying a hand between each of their should blades and began pushing them lightly. They both shrugged off the unwanted gesture. Yuzu decided to cling to his arm the whole way there. Karin walked closely by his other side, but refused to meet his gaze when he looked over at her. She had a little bit of pink dusting her cheeks. <em>Aw, they both still love me. Gross.</em> Ichigo smiled, as he led them to the lowest level of the castle, turning right and going down two different staircases. He could hear rain pounding the grounds outside, even from their location inside the castle.</p><p>“It’s raining already?”</p><p>Karin nodded.</p><p>“Yeah, started early this morning. Urahara said it probably won’t stop for quite a while.” Ichigo groaned. He <em>hated</em> the rain, maybe even more than the never-ending winter snow. Whatever. He’d eat his weight in greasy bacon, and mope about that later.</p><p>While the main kitchens were at ground level, Ichigo preferred the casualness of the lower kitchens, where the servants tended to prepare their own food. Orihime, Chad, Uryu, among others, tended to use those kitchens, even though he’d told them nobody would care if they wanted to not cook in what was basically a dungeon.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You can use whichever one you want,” Ichigo said to Orihime, watching as she sprinkled a couple crushed weird plants over a plate of scrambled eggs and a bunch of pepper. “You know no one cares about the traditional one royal kitchen shit, one for the lowly servants. That’s a bullshit tradition anyway.” Orihime laughed at that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know, but I like the ovens down here better,” she said, finishing off her egg concoction with finely chopped tomato, fresh cucumber, and pitted olives. Ichigo grimaced as she started stuffing her face, not bothering to offer him any, already knowing his answer. It certainly looked more tame than her usual concoctions.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, but sometimes there’s different food up there.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I awlyedy twk smee.” Ichigo nodded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“M’m swrius!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“’Hime.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ywah?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your food is saying hi to me every time you try to say something.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Swrry!” A piece of cucumber fell out of her mouth onto the countertop. For a second, they both stared at it. She swallowed a moment later, and popped the cucumber back into her mouth. Ichigo stuck out his tongue, before laughing at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Besides,” she said, chewing a little, “I like that it’s easier to get outside from down here.” Ichigo looked over to the door off to the side in the back part of the wall, made of a thick dark wood, black hinges with large bolts inlayed in an arc towards the top. The rounded-top door was offset by the stone wall. The way the wall torches flickered with light, made the area look a little creepy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I guess, but it’s also easier for people to get in, isn’t it?” She shrugged. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not very many people know about it, I don’t think.” Ichigo grabbed a fork and scooped a mouthful of the woman’s egg concoction into his mouth, gagging a minute later. Grabbing a cloth, he half spit, half sneezed the contents out into it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your stomach must be made of iron.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo didn’t want to taste anything remotely close to that egg dish for the rest of his life. <em>She must’ve put a whole container of pepper in it.</em> Uryu had managed to choke half of it down before dissolving into a sneezing mess, much to his delight. As they wound down the half spiraled second stair case, meandering along to the swinging kitchen door, Ichigo head a commotion coming from the kitchens. Rolling his eyes, <em>If Zangetsu got in down there again...</em>Chad promised it was a one-time thing. <em>Just wanted to see if he could fit through the door if he needed to…blah blah blah.</em></p><p> Maybe Orihime was making something for poor Uryu to eat again? Then again, Ichigo thought he maybe deserved a small case of the shits, with how constipated he was when Ichigo woke up in the yard of the castle grounds.  <em>Or did I get back in the early morning? </em>He shrugged, didn’t matter that much anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Aw, come one, at least tell me where I can find someone in charge,” A voice said. Ichigo stilled, ice suddenly spiking through his veins in frigid tendrils. He knew everyone in the castle, their gait on the creaking wooden stairs, how they ran across the stone floors, how everyone yelled his name, at one point or another, and Ichigo had never heard this man’s voice before. Loud, and abrasive, but also smooth, like he was used to talking a lot.</p><p>“Come on, don’t hassle the poor thing,” another unfamiliar voice said, a woman. She was chastising the man; <em>there’s two of them?</em>  He heard Yuzu and Karin suck in a breath simultaneously. Placing himself in front of them both, he swept a hand behind him, distancing them from him and the door.</p><p>“Go find Dad,” he whispered to them. Karin looked like she was going to refuse, until Ichigo grabbed the hilt of his sword, clenching long fingers around silk wrapped wood. After the past couple days he’d had, he was ready to sleep with it; if he sliced open his gut while he moved, so be it. He wasn’t above a little risk.  </p><p>Lips tight, eyes wide and fearful, both girls nodded, and took off back up the stairs, quietly as not to have them squeak, alerting the intruders to someone outside the door. Ichigo turned back to the door. <em>With any luck, he’ll still be in his quarters, </em>he thought, <em>or maybe with Urahara.</em> But he couldn’t wait that long, not with two of them and Orihime in there; who knows what the man was doing. <em>If he so much as lays a hand or Orihime, I’ll separate his spine from his body.</em></p><p>Flattening a palm on the door, the other hand pulled his sword from its sheath silently agonizingly slow as he listened at the door. Loud chewing sounds, a sigh. Creaking of wood. Was Orihime still eating?</p><p>“We really should be going,” the woman’s voice said. She sounded unimpressed.</p><p>Taking that as his que, Ichigo pushed the door back, swinging it on its hinges, and rushed inside, sword in front of him, glinting dangerously in the torch lights lining the sides of the kitchen. The door swung back behind him unceremoniously.</p><p>In front of him sat a man <em>on</em> the wooden table. Strange flame red hair, stranger eyebrows, almost like they were tattoos instead of actual eyebrows, <em>what is with people and their face tattoos right now? </em>The same tribal tattoo, paint…stuff, rand down his exposed neck and lower, vanishing into the deep V of his black robes. <em>Why the hell do I keep running into guys with weird-ass tattoos?</em> A woman stood beside him, shoulder length black hair, blinking at him with large purple eyes.</p><p>Ichigo looked back to Red, mouth stuffed with, his eyes flicked down to the basket sitting beside him…<em>Is he stuffing his face with bread?</em> Cheeks puffed out like he was storing it for later, Ichigo couldn’t help but snort. Sword still held firm the tip pointing directly at the woman, who at the moment seemed like a much bigger threat, since she wasn’t currently carb loading like a moron.</p><p>“Orihime, are you hurt?” he asked, looking over to her. She was busy braiding her hair, sitting on another counter opposite of Red, crumbs on the table beside her. <em>Had she been eating as well?</em></p><p>“Hmm? Oh, nope! I’m just fine! These two were already here when I walked in. Imagine my surprise when I bumped into them! I was sure shocked, but then—”</p><p>“Well, at least we don’t have to search the whole castle now,” red-head said swallowing his mouthful, cutting off Orihime’s rambling. Purple eyes settled on the crest woven into the leather belt, the only thing he wore indicating royal blood, which he normally wore inside out, or covered by a coat. <em>Damnit.</em></p><p>“What do you want? And who are you?” Purple crossed her arms over her <em>flat</em> chest, Ichigo noticed absently. Then again, there wasn’t much competing when Orihime was in the room. He mentally slapped himself for thinking such vulgar things.</p><p>Red swallowed another maw full of bread, and picked at a sharp canine with his pinky finger.</p><p>“Lower your sword boy,” the man said, causing Ichigo’s eye to twitch. <em>If another person called him ‘boy’ he’d gut them, the bastards. </em></p><p>“We’re from the Serireitei Sovereignty, here to talk to the King of Karakura.” The woman with him lurched over to her companion and smacked him on the back of the head.</p><p>Ichigo lowered his sword a little in surprise. Oh. Oh dear. Foreign dignitaries? <em>In Karakura?</em></p><p>That wasn’t good.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I definitely feel like I'm trying way to hard with the shower stuff, but whatever. I've stared at it for days so it's getting left as is. If I come back and re-edit for the millionth time, maybe I'll have a better idea then? Idk, but we shall see. I hope it's enjoyable so far! As always, Kudo's and comments are appreciated:)</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Infiltration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On today's episode, we get a sneak peak of the Seireitei Sovereignty, which the author can't spell without spellcheck saving her ass every time, we get a glimpse into a meeting called by Lord Yamamoto. What was so important to call such an emergency meeting? What did that mean for Rukia and Renji? And why were they suddenly running through the forest at night?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ooooo new POV!! I was just going to save this in my drafts until a little later, but I've tried to do that twice and it deleted it both times, so I guess I'll just post this and the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rukia watched from her spot behind her clan leader, as Lord Yamamoto stroked his long beard. Renji sat beside her, yawning into the back of his hand, hair tied up in its usual spikey ponytail. A meeting between the Lord and his counsel had been ordered; his chief advisors, along with the commanders of the guard were all present. Some, like her clan leader and brother, brought an officer with them.</p><p>“It has come to my knowledge the young prince of the neighboring Kingdom has gone missing,” the old man said, smoothing down his long white beard. None of the officers reacted to his statement, faces carved of stone and steel; they were not prone to overreacting. Kneeling on the tatami, his legs cushioned by a softer layer of plush, he looked towards them.</p><p>The meeting room was an old war advisory room, a floor table with a large map of the area sprawled out before them, as they sat in a square formation around it, with the Lord at the table head. Her brother had asked her to attend, as well as the loud-mouthed impulsive man beside her.</p><p>She studied the map silently as the Lord continued speaking about the neighboring kingdom. Karakura, it was called, she remembered. On the map before them, Karakura lay diagonally of the Sovereignty, the forest sprawling out between the two kingdoms in an L formation, in the center of the forest, there appeared to be a blank spot. <em>How unusual.</em></p><p>“Lord Yamamoto, with all due respect, what does that have to do with the Seireitei? As we all know, they have kept their isolation for over a decade,” a young voice said. Rukia glanced around and recognized it belonging to a kid with white hair. Toshiro Hitsugya, boy genius tactician.</p><p>“That is true, they’re not exactly a friendly bunch of royals.” Advisor Kyoraku mused, twirling the end of his dark ponytailed hair around a single finger. His niece, Nanao, a proficient spellcaster, capable of dual wielding even the most complex of spells, sat behind him, saying nothing. Lord Yamamoto held up his hand to silence them. She cast a glance at her brother, sitting stoically on the tatami, he looked deep in thought.</p><p>“That may be, but it will become our problem to deal with if they are to send soldiers here,” the old man said, murmurs arising throughout the room. Rukia’s eyes widened at the statement. Karakura was sending soldiers? To the Seireitei?  </p><p>“A bold move for an isolationist King. You think that’s true?” Kyoraku asked, turning to him.</p><p>“These are the actions of a panicked father, not concerned king.” Yama continued. A man with long white hair, sitting next to Advisor Kyoraku nodded in agreement. Jushiro Ukitake, the second advisor to the lord of the land.</p><p>“I agree. Even if it is a rumor, in such matters, it is best to act with caution,”</p><p>“I suppose you have a point, Juu-chan.” Kyoraku said, waving the ends of his ponytail in the other mans face. Ukitake swatted him away, chuckling at him.</p><p>“So, what do you think, Yama-jii?” Kyraku added, looking at the man. Yamamoto cracked a single eye open to look at him in displeasure at the informality. It didn’t seem to bother Kyoraku.</p><p>“We must treat these rumors with some sincerity,” he stated after some time, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.</p><p>“Since the special taskforce is on a different assignment, I will leave this matter to you and your officers, Commander Kuchiki.” He nodded once in affirmation. Satisfied with that, Lord Yamamoto grabbed the knobby staff beside him and stood, walking towards the door. Turning to look at the Commanders once more, he leveled a look at her commander.</p><p>“Send whoever you like, so long as they are capable of acting with a manner of tact. This meeting is adjourned.” And with that, he opened the door and left. Various commanders began to stand as well, moving around the map. Rukia stayed sitting right behind her commander and brother, working up her nerve.</p><p>“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the delicacy of the situation,” Jushiro said, looking directly at her commander softly. Advisor Ukitake was well known for his kindness and compassion even during the most dire of circumstances. “We may be able to break a decades long silence with the neighboring kingdom; both provinces could benefit greatly.”</p><p>Byakuya nodded curtly, still not saying anything. Beside her, Renji had also not moved. The room was almost empty by the time their Captain stood<em>. It’s now or never</em>, Rukia thought.</p><p>“My Captain, please send me!” Renji and Rukia said simultaneously, bowing their heads low to the floor. They shot up, facing each other and glaring.</p><p>“Pfffff, your idea of being tactful is chewing with your mouth only slightly agape you big—"</p><p>“Yeah, well that’s better than practicing spells in the middle of the nig—"</p><p>“I do <em>not </em>do such things—”</p><p>“You do too! And I don’t chew with my mouth op—"</p><p>“That’s enough you two.” Byakuya said, cutting them off. They turned to their commander, who was facing them by now, slipping his sword back into his sash.</p><p>“I’m sending you both. Figure out the situation. In and out in three days,” he adjusted his obi slightly on the standard black kimono before closing his white haori. “I’ll give you a day to prepare.”</p><p>“But sir, it’s a two-day journey around the forest!” Renji said, arching his weird black tattooed eyebrows.</p><p>“Then go through it,” was the cold response. Rukia wanted to shiver at the sound.</p><p>“There’s been reports of a monster roaming the forest, killing all sorts of large animals,” she added quietly, looking up to her brother.  </p><p>“Then don’t get killed,” Byakuya said, turning on his heel and leaving. Stopping at the doorway, he turned to level them a look. “Three days.”</p><p>
  
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</p><p>Rukia wanted to scream. First, the forest was dark and scary as hell, and the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. Wolves were howling in the moonless night, cries even more pained than she’d imagined they’d be. The legends said the wolves were docile, so long as the moon was at its fullest—like it was a giant, glowing soul floating in the sky. But they definitely weren’t tonight.</p><p>Second, they’d killed at least fifteen of the damned things. Most of them were alone, so two against one wasn’t exactly a hard job, but in the growing darkness, it had become more difficult. The last few had been in a pack, and significantly harder to deal with.</p><p>Renji would’ve lost a hand had Rukia not kicked the beast in its massive head, sending it backwards into a tree and impaling it with one of her daggers. She didn’t agree with needless killing, but these wolves were out for blood, fangs sharp and dangerously curved. If one caught an arm or a leg, those jaws would tear it off in a heartbeat. Large mostly black body with a single silvery stripe down their back, the most unusual thing about these creatures was the hole straight through their middle. How their spine worked, she didn’t have a clue. To top it off, there was a foul liquid oozing from the holes, the smell pungent and unusual, a combination of rot and musk.</p><p>Yelling as a large paw planted itself on her chest, pushing her to the ground, she noticed blood dripping from fat white fangs.</p><p>“Fuck!” Renji slipped behind it instantly, as jaws opened toward her throat, and drew his blade across the furred neck. Rukia scrambled away as hot, dark blood gushed out of the dying wolves’ throat. Feeling the front of her kimono with one hand, it came back wet. She growled lowly, glaring at her companion. <em>Renji…,</em> she thought, angry at the situation, he was being a total pain in the ass. She walked over to him, as he was still holding the beast by the scruff of its neck.</p><p>“Watch it, will you? Commander would murder me with a pair of sandals if I came back with your corpse.” She pointed a glare right at her idiot partner, before she saw movement in the darkness again, flashing red eyes glowing in the shadows.</p><p>“Renji, on your right!” she yelled, unstrapping a dagger from inside her flowing sleeves.</p><p>“Your right or my right?” he yelled, spinning around and slashing his sword in the darkness, at what they both hoped was the last wolf.  </p><p>“We’re facing the same direction, you moron!” Rukia yelled back, throwing her dagger at the creature which had gotten behind Renji, sharp claws poised to swipe at his chest, nailing it right between the eyes. Renji stood there and watched as it bled out, frown on his face.</p><p>“Hey, I had that one!”</p><p>“How you managed to make it this far is beyond me.” She shook her head and rubbed her fingers in circles around her temples.</p><p>“Well, at least we’re making good time,” he said, ignoring her comment, stepping over the wolf body and continuing forward, “We should get there by morning.”</p><p>“Oh good, that means we have to camp out here tonight?” Rukia grimaced, but followed the red-head, pulling the dagger from its skull as she went. Looking around, she didn’t see a place that would be a good campsite, especially if these wolves were everywhere. Producing a small cloth from her black kimono pocket, she wiped the blood off her hand and dagger, before hiding it again. Renji rolled his eyes.</p><p>“No, I mean we’ll get there by morning if we don’t stop.” Rukia groaned. That was somehow worse; she’d almost rather chance it with the wolves. <em>So what, we’re supposed to show up exhausted and covered in blood to the kingdom? That’ll be a good look, </em>she thought bitterly.  </p><p>“Oh come on, I won’t let anythin’ hurt ya!” It certainly sounded like he had his cocky grin slapped back on his face like a dirty band aid that wouldn’t get changed no matter how much she begged.</p><p>“It’s not the forest I’m worried about,” she grumbled, glaring at her fiery companion. They walked in silence for a while after that, as the light completely left them from the setting sun. Running into any more of those wolves at this point, would be even more of a challenge. A narrow path wound through the forest, barely connecting the two provinces, but it was a connection nonetheless. The clouded sky hid stars from their view. They had passed close by the center of the forest not too long ago, but then veered north, since their goal was to enter on the unoccupied east side of the castle, closest to the forests tall tree wall.</p><p>“Why is it so dark,” Renji asked, bumping his arm against Rukia’s thin shoulder. She rolled her eyes.</p><p>“It’s the new moon tonight, you moron.” Renji scoffed, and she heard some rustling. <em>Probably itching himself because he’s gross.</em></p><p>“Plus it’s cloudy, and we’re traveling through a forest. Did you expect streetlamps or something?”  </p><p>“No.” She sighed.</p><p>“Would you like a light?”</p><p>“Tch. Whatever. I can see just fine.”</p><p>Rukia rolled her eyes again at his pouting. She wasn’t a fan of walking through near complete darkness either, so having mercy on Renji seemed like a good excuse to make one. She held out her palm in front of her and focused on it. She could feel his eyes on her as they kept walking.</p><p>“Mask of blood and flesh, all creation…” she began the spell incantation. Renji snorted, but said nothing otherwise. It wasn’t like he could pull it off without blowing them both up. Somewhere off in the distance, she heard the howling of another pack of wolves. <em>Light may not be a good idea after all, but stopping halfway through is a recipe for disaster. </em></p><p>“Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges…,” she continued, closing her eyes and stopping. Faint red sparks began to erupt in her hand, a building explosion. She concentrated even more, feeling how her energy swirled and twisted, warm in her palm. The red was flaring brighter as she let a small mass of magic gather in her hand.</p><p>“Hado number thirty-one, Shakkaho!” she finished the incantation and condensed the energy, aiming for a ball no bigger than a chicken egg. If something attacked, she’d have to trust Renji for a minute while she restrained the energy into a light rather than a projectile explosion. Watching as it fizzled in her hands, it lit both of them in a luminous red glow. She beamed at Renji, finally able to see him clearly.</p><p>“Show off,” he muttered, scratching his hair matching the same color as the spell. Sticking out her tongue she started to walk, leaving him in darkness.</p><p>“Hey, wait up!”</p><p>A low snarl vibrated through the air, the ground, angry and tempestuous, stopping them in their tracks. She heard Renji unsheathe his sword. Sound of bones cracking, like something big had stepped on them, heavy, pant-like breathing, more rumbling, like whatever it was, was carrying thunder in its throat. Rukia swallowed hard; wolves didn’t make that sound.</p><p>Danger of the spell exploding in their faces no longer present, she held it out farther, casting the light before them in a wide luminous arc. Ground, leaves, branches, tree trunks, everything bathed in flicker red, like everything was covered in a thin layer of glowing blood. A brief flash of movement in her peripheral had her swinging her arm around to face whatever the hell it was.</p><p>Some kind of…animal, crouched before them. Larger than a man, the red glow reflected off shiny black fur beginning to stand on end. Blood dripped from its fanged, almost feline angular face. In its mouth was a snapped bone—leg bone, Rukia guessed, of one of those wolves. Fur was strewn about the area in matted, bloody, clumps. Ink black eyes, slitted in the glowing light, were looking straight at them. Even from a distance, Rukia could feel the bloodlust contained within predatory eyes.</p><p>Renji stepped in front of her then, sword brandished towards the creature. She watched as long, furred ears flicked back, nearly laying down, before the creature let out a guttural hiss. It had double the number of canine teeth, all razor sharp, and stained with blood. Thick black tail, split down the middle halfway, curled around it slowly. <em>This must be the creature the townspeople have been seeing.</em></p><p>Neither of them moved as they watched the other. Rukia noticed undulating black masses on each of its paws and tail ends, licking and lapping at its fur. <em>Is that…black flames? What kind of creature is this?</em></p><p>A howl broke them from their stupor, closer than last time. The sound of running, branches breaking at a rapid pace. <em>Another wolf pack? </em></p><p>“Damn those things are relentless,” she mumbled; fighting them in near darkness would be almost impossible, and if she kept the spell light, Renji would have to defend them both. It was a no-win situation. <em>If only I could duel wield spells like Miss Nanao. </em></p><p>“Renji, we need to hurry. If those wolves find—” The black beast snarled and snapped its teeth at them. Blood spattering the ground before their feet. Creature crouched back on two legs then, raising its head up and sniffing the air. It had to be at least seven or eight feet tall if it stood on two legs.</p><p><em>“Mine.” </em> </p><p>Rukia saw Renji stiffen at the beast’s strained voice, and swallowed hard. It was garbled, and two-toned, tail swatted around in the air. Black creature spun to face them suddenly, startling Rukia, who stepped back out of instinct. A cold gust of air, reminding them they weren’t quite done with winter winds yet, blew past them and goosebumps rose on her shaking arm. Red light flickered once in her palm, plunging them into a split second of darkness. Panic and bile rose simultaneously in her throat. When it flicked back to life, the creature was gone. Spinning around in her spot, casting the light all around the two of them, she didn’t see a trace of the beast that was there only moments before.</p><p>“Let’s hurry,” Renji said, breaking her from her thoughts.</p><p>“B-but-what about that—”</p><p>“Listen.” he commanded, grabbing her by her shoulder. Rukia did as she was told, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of the forest. The wolf pack was in chaos, full of painful shrieking and yelping, running away from them now. Rukia let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and tried to walk on trembling legs. <em>How close were we to getting killed just now, </em>she wondered.</p><p>“Let’s hope those wolves are enough to satisfy it.” Rukia nodded, before turning to follow her partner running down the path. The sooner they could get out of this damned forest, the better.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>------------------------------------------------</p><p>They had almost outrun the rain. Almost.</p><p>“Okay, we’re here. Now what genius?” Rukia yelled at the red head, as rain pelted down from the sky in fat, cold drops. They were pressed against an eastern castle wall, trying to stay dry. Rain was pouring down, tilted slightly from the west, so they had managed to be a little sheltered from the oncoming monsoon, at least for the time being.</p><p>“Well, I didn’t actually think it would be that easy to get inside the gate.” Rukia rolled her eyes. Of course, he didn’t. Then again, she had also expected to need to scale a gate or two, at the very least, but to their surprise, they were able to walk right in. <em>Maybe everyone is asleep?</em> The pair had cut through the forest halfway, in order to reach the castle without having to go through the town surrounding it from the west.  </p><p>“Well we probably shouldn’t go in through the front door.”</p><p>“Why the hell not?” Rukia frowned at him. He couldn’t really be that stupid, right?  </p><p>“Renji, we’re <em>spying,</em> you do know how that would look, right?” Renji snorted and turned away, walking along the wall edge, rain flicking across his shoulder not protected by the ledge of the castle roof.</p><p>“We could just ask someone to point us in the right direction,” he mumbled.</p><p>“You’re far too trusting in a foreign kingdom,” Rukia said into her hands. Not only was she cold, hungry, and exhausted from their nights journey, but now she was arguing with her partner about the best way to <em>sneak</em> into the castle. Apparently, not sneaking was the way to go.</p><p>“Foreign doesn’t mean enemy.” He looked back at her, serious look on his face. She sighed. Her shoulders were stiff.  </p><p>“I know that, but the situation is fairly tenuous.” Renji frowned at her and faced forward, still walking. One hand was dragging along the wall, fingertips lightly brushing up against weathered stone.</p><p>“Quit using weird words.”</p><p>“Fine. Precarious.”</p><p>“Yeah and I’d say sticky. So now we both know words.”</p><p>Rukia planted a foot on the backside of his black kimono and shoved him, leaving an imprint of her sandal, watching as he nearly lost his balance and face planted into the sloppy ground, laughing. The land sprawled out around them, green grass and delicate landscaping which was currently being drowned by the rain. Craning her head, she saw what she assumed was the garden, down at the base of a hill. Keeping a shoulder to the wall she kept walking, hoping they’d come up on something soon, or else the mud was going to sink through her waraji and into her tabi. She shivered at the thought. <em>Why didn’t I bring a jacket like Nii-sama suggested?</em></p><p>Rukia ran into Renji’s back, not realizing he’d stopped. Crouching to look around him, she saw a dark wooden door, ornate hinges stretching across the width of the door, and bolts hammered through it, matching the curve of the arch near the top. Looking at the handle, she noticed it opened inwardly.  </p><p>“Let’s hope this isn’t locked,” Renji said, grabbing the handle and pushing. Rukia was surprised when it opened. “This way.”</p><p>Looking around the large open room, she saw what looked like a big oven, plenty of wooden cabinets, the same dark wood the door looked to be made out of, and beside them, Rukia saw a fireplace smoldering with dying heat. Various plants hung from notches from the low wooden beams, drying. There were a couple of longer wooden tables on either side of the room, both had baskets on them.</p><p> “This must be the servant’s kitchens,” Rukia remarked, she noticed a door to her right, a pantry, she assumed.</p><p>“Great, I’m starving!”</p><p>“Renji, please don’t.” But it was already too late, as she watched him walk up to a basket sitting on the closest wooden table. Plucking out two fluffy bread rolls, he stuffed them both in his mouth. Rukia rubbed her face, a combination of irritation and exhaustion rolling over her. Three days for this mission was cutting it way too close.</p><p> <em>Nii-sama wouldn’t send us on this mission if he didn’t believe in us,</em> she thought, trying to perk herself up. She nodded her head, mostly to herself. <em>We can do it!</em></p><p>“Cme twy wn ff twhse!” Renji said, mouthful of bread and waving a roll in her direction; Rukia smiled slightly at the sight. He must’ve stuffed a whole roll in either cheek. His kimono wasn’t too wet, she noticed. Looking down at hers, it was just the bottom most hem with any dampness. Wolf blood had dried ages ago, and blended in with the blackness of her kimono, so it wasn’t horribly noticeable. Straw sandals were a little soggy, but they’d dry in no time.</p><p>“Who are you two?”</p><p>Rukia spun around to see an orange haired woman dressed in pink silken pajamas. She watched as the woman rubbed her eyes sleepily, crossing her arms within her sleeves, feeling the dagger strapped to her wrist. <em>A guard?</em>  </p><p>The girl yawned and stumbled over to a cabinet close to Renji, pulling out a jar with a wooden thing sticking out of it. “Try dipping the bread in this,” she said with another yawn. “It’s a lot sweeter.”</p><p><em>Or maybe not,</em> Rukia thought, watching as she offered honey for the bread her partner was gorging himself on. He took it with enthusiasm, dolloping a huge glob of the sweet nectar on yet another roll before stuffing the whole thing in his mouth like a half-starved beggar.</p><p>Rukia raised an eyebrow at the girl. Did she have no self-preservation instincts or was she completely naïve? <em>Who offers honey to trespassers obviously not from the kingdom?</em></p><p>The girl drizzled a bit of honey on another roll and went to another table, sitting on top of it before taking a big bite.</p><p>“There’s more in there, if you want one!”  the girl chirped after she swallowed, looking a little more awake, and smiling at Rukia who sighed in defeat. Well, it obviously wasn’t poisoned if <em>she</em> was eating it, right? Grabbing one and foregoing the honey, she took a bite. It was good, not warm, but still a flaky outer crust and a sweet, slightly soft inside; the shape was a little strange though, Rukia noticed, as she turned it between her hands.  </p><p>“I tried to make them in the shape of bunnies, but they didn’t quite work out. Who knew working with bread would be so hard!”</p><p>“Bunnies?” Rukia asked. Bread in the shape of a bunny? <em>Best idea ever!</em> The girl nodded, swinging her legs and held up her roll.</p><p>“This was supposed to be the tail, and I already ate the ears and head,” she said pointing to different spots on the roll. Rukia looked down at her own roll and found she could kind of make out a little bit of bunny-ishness, eyes sparkling with the revelation. This was turning out to be a <em>very</em> good day.  </p><p>“I must know this recipe for the bunny bread!” she announced, startling Renji and making the girl smile.</p><p>“Of course!” Rukia beamed at her. Bunny bread! This trip might not be completely useless after all! She could already envision a little basket filled with cute little pastry bunnies, an arrangement her brother would surely love to see and eat!</p><p>“Has your prince returned?” Renji asked before stuffing another two rolls in his mouth, jolting her out of her bunny bread daydream.</p><p>The girl looked at him with wide eyes.</p><p>“How did you know about—”</p><p>“News like that travels far, fast.” Rukia said, giving her a sympathetic look.</p><p>The girl composed herself quickly, but tightened her lips in a thin line. <em>Looks like she’s not as completely naïve as I thought. </em>Doubting the woman would answer such a question, Rukia finished eating the bread in silence. She didn’t look like she’d be saying anything more about the matter. <em>Say goodbye to the bread recipe,</em> she thought sadly. <em>Damn. Leave it to Renji.</em></p><p> “We should speak to someone higher up than you,” Renji announced after a moment. “Someone else would probably know something.”</p><p>Rukia sighed into her hands. Leave it to him to not read the room. The woman glared at him for a brief instant, trying to be as threatening as one could be in frilly pink pajamas. Renji, having not noticed his stupidity, just kept talking. Rukia shook her head and looked back at the woman, who had begun to braid her hair with a scowl on her face. If she had been considering answer the question they’d asked earlier, she certainly wasn’t going to now.</p><p>“Aw, come on, at least tell me where I can find <em>someone</em> in charge,” her companion said before stuffing more bread into his mouth. Rukia looked at him in disbelief. <em>Is he really going to eat that whole basket?</em> How rude. Who knew who she had made that for, and here he was, eating all of it like a pig. <em>Nii-sama will be so disappointed.</em></p><p>“There’s no need to hassle the poor girl,” Rukia said, frowning at him before looking at the woman again. “And you shouldn’t eat all of it, you idiot.”</p><p>Brown eyes were staring back at her with some warmth, and Rukia’s shoulders relaxed a little. <em>At least she isn’t too angry with me.</em> She seemed nice enough, but they were still unwelcome strangers in a Kings castle. They shouldn’t cut it too close, or the girl may end up getting punished severely. <em>I don’t want that to happen,</em> she decided.</p><p>“We really should be going,” Rukia said to the girl, bowing slightly. They were intruders in what she assumed was probably the girl’s kitchen, not to mention the castle, so they should at least try to be polite. <em>So much for coming in like spies.</em></p><p>The door swung open a second later, revealing a man with hair similar to the girls, dressed in plain attire save for the leather belts with a crest stitched on them. <em>The missing prince, perhaps?</em> He was brandishing a sword in front of him, pointing it towards Rukia. She saw his eyes flick over to Renji, who had stuffed another two rolls in his mouth, and he snorted. Apparently, Rukia was the bigger threat than he was, even though her companion was considerably larger. She felt her heart swell with pride at the thought.</p><p>“Orihime, are you okay? Did they hurt you?” <em>Ah, so that was her name. </em>She shook her head as she continued to work her hair into a long braid.</p><p>“Hmm? Oh, nope! I’m just fine! These two were already here when I walked in. Imagine my surprise when I bumped into them! I was sure shocked, but then—”</p><p>“Well, at least we don’t have to search the whole castle now,” Renji said, cutting off Orihime before she could continue rambling and stuffed another roll into his mouth. Rukia shot her a brief look of apology. They didn’t have a whole lot of time, so some politeness would need to be forgone. <em>Nii-sama, please forgive us.</em></p><p>“What do you want? And who are you?” The man asked, not lowering his sword. He noticed there was no guard on his sword. <em>Interesting choice. </em>He must be an excellent swordsman then, to not have a guard. <em>And even then….</em></p><p>“Lower your sword boy,” Renji said after he swallowed. Rukia rolled her eyes for the thousandth time at her partner. At least he could be serious when the situation called for it. </p><p>“We’re from the Serireitei Sovereignty, here to talk to the King of Karakura.”</p><p>She saw his eyes widen as he slowly dropped the sword. He did not however, sheathe it, Rukia noticed, as he narrowed a glare between them.</p><p>“Why do you need to speak with my father?”</p><p>“Ah, so you <em>are </em>the missing prince, then,” Rukia said plainly, cocking her head slightly to one side. She figured as much by the crest, twin dragons flying over a blooming flower. He was different from what she was expecting.</p><p>“How do you know—”</p><p>“Good news travels fast, bad news faster,” Renji said, crossing his arms, but not bothering to slide off the bread table. He was younger than she expected, Rukia thought finally. Even their own prince had been much older when he….Rukia shook her head slightly. Now was not the time for that. She looked towards the man again. <em>That and he dresses much…plainer than I expected.</em></p><p>“We had heard rumors of your King sending soldiers to our province; we came to make sure those rumors were not acted upon.” Rukia swiftly stepped over to her idiot partner and punched him hard at the base of his throat. He bent over, coughing into his hands and sliding off the table into a heap on the floor. Everyone watched as he flailed around like the dumbest fish in the room, wiggling and sputtering on the floor, dignity running off to do something more productive.</p><p>“And while we’re here,” he wheezed, holding his throat and fending off a couple well placed kicks from the smaller woman, “we thought it would be good to try and set up a meeting between our Lord and your King.”</p><p>Rukia could scream as she scrubbed her hands through black hair. What was the point of spying if he was just going to make out and tell every little detail? Well, he’d definitely told them everything, the idiot.</p><p>“Well, I for one certainly don’t think this is the ideal space to speak of such things,” a deeper voice said beside them. A stubbly faced, duck pajamas wearing man was standing in the door way Rukia had noticed earlier, arms on his hips and chest puffed out; he looked like the most confident man in the world. And wearing <em>that</em>, in front of people, she reasoned, he’d have to be. And w<em>hen did he get here?</em> She hadn’t heard a single thing; maybe he’d suck down when she was abusing Renji?</p><p>“And you might be…?” Renji asked with as much dignity a man lying on the floor could have, raising a tattooed eyebrow at the dark-haired man.</p><p>“Isshin Kurosaki, King of Kaurakura.” Rukia swallowed.</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>dun dun duuunnn!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lights Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a frustrating game of chase, Ichigo overhears bits of a conversation he really should've have. Realizing he needs to find the blue-haired forest hermit again, he sets off in a panic. What's with the visions he's having, why does he keep seeing a woman? His chest is so tight, it hurts...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uhhhh tbh I'm not quite sure what qualifies as a warning, but this one might be like...a little more graphic? Maybe not, I'm not the best judge, but just in case I guess.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo groaned, running long fingers through spiky orange hair. He was standing in his fathers’ quarters, in a room that was now a library, but apparently had once housed the war council. Renji and Rukia were present as well, having met with his father this morning already, much to Ichigo’s irritation.</p>
<p>“So which is it, goat face?” Ichigo half yelled at his father. “Half the time you want me to know everything about everything, and now you left me out of arguably one of the most important meetings we’ve ever had? What the hell?”</p>
<p>Isshin held up a hand to stop his son. “Just trust me on this, Ichigo.” He quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at his father.</p>
<p>“Pass,” Ichigo huffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away. Isshin sighed from behind him, walking up to his son, and slapping a hand on either of his shoulders. Pressing him down with more force than he expected, Ichigo strained to hold up under the building weight his father was putting on him without buckling his knees. Without warning, the man quickly spun Ichigo around and started shoving him towards the open door. Ichigo tripped, and almost face planted into the floor, arms shooting out and breaking his fall.</p>
<p>“Besides, of the meetings we’ll hold, this was definitely the unimportant one. You will need to be present for the others,” his father said lamely, planting a foot right on his ass. Urahara chuckled from beside the door, fan in hand, hiding his stupid stubbly face. <em>What is he even doing here? </em></p>
<p>“Others?” he asked, swatting the offending foot away and standing back up, dusting himself off. Ichigo looked at the goons who showed up yesterday in the lower kitchens—Renji had a bruise developing right at the base of his throat, right before his kimono closed. <em>Shorty must’ve got’em good.</em></p>
<p>“Yes, opening up discussions between two kingdoms is a lengthy process,” Isshin said, sighing. He didn’t seem very happy, by what Ichigo took as good news.  <em>It’s about damn time.</em></p>
<p>The two from the Seireitei Sovereignty bowed low at him.</p>
<p>“Thank you, your majesty,” Rukia said as she straightened. Isshin made a face, laughing softly.</p>
<p>“There’s no need for the formalities. You can call me Isshin.”</p>
<p>Rukia had a look on her face that said <em>I</em> <em>neither can nor will.</em> Renji just shrugged.</p>
<p>“We’ll return soon with more news as soon as we can, sir.”  </p>
<p>Isshin sighed. He wasn’t going to win.</p>
<p>“Don’t rush yourself on my account,” he said, looking out the window behind him. Rain came down in sheets against it, rattling the panes in the frame. Ichigo frowned. Rukia sighed.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, we have already overstayed our welcome at the present. We need to return by the end of the day.”</p>
<p>“You said you came through the forest?” Ichigo asked. Rukia nodded, eyes still fixed on rain hitting the window. She looked increasingly put off the more rain hit the window. Ichigo didn’t blame her.</p>
<p>“Did you see anyone else?” She snorted. He could feel Urahara’s eyes, burning on his back; his father narrowed his eyes on him, before throwing himself at his son and yelling like a moron with a crown.</p>
<p>“So you really did meet with—”</p>
<p>“Just a question.” Ichigo grunted out, throwing out an elbow and jabbing it into his fathers looming, creepy face, sending him to the floor. Blood spilled down his face from his nose, thumbs jammed up his nostrils trying to stop the blood flow. With any luck, he broke it.</p>
<p>“But why would you ask—” his voice was nasally. Sensing it was his turn to torment the old man, Ichigo planted a booted foot on his old man’s forehead and pushed, until his father was leaning comically far away, supported only by straining legs, arms grasping in the air, catching nothing. He could feel eyes on him, watching their juvenile antics.</p>
<p>“Ah…,” the woman started, glancing between the two curiously. They probably didn’t look much like royals. “We didn’t see any other people but….”</p>
<p>Ichigo stopped pushing, instead letting his food drop and his father face plant into the floor as he overcorrected his posture. He turned to face her. Her arms were in her sleeves again, lips pursed, like she was thinking. He watched as her eyes drifted all around the room, studying the menagerie of books lining the wall, his fathers’ desk, filled with all kinds of papers, the large table after it, big enough to sit fifteen people before they finally settled on him.</p>
<p>“There was a…creature,” she said slowly, looking between them.</p>
<p>“You mean the wolves?” Ichigo offered, shrugging. They were a pain in the ass on black nights, when the moon was gone.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t a wolf that we saw.” Renji said suddenly, a dark look on his face.</p>
<p>“What was it then?”</p>
<p>“We’re not entirely sure what it was. I’ve…I’ve never seen anything like it.” The room seemed to grow a little colder then, Ichigo noticed, as he stilled. He barely registered his father standing back up. He opened his mouth to speak when—</p>
<p>“In that case, we should definitely loan you some of our horses then~” Urahara piped up, quickly changing the conversation and strolling towards the short woman.</p>
<p>“We’ve got plenty to choose from, although, I’d stay away from the big black one, he’s quite temperamental, like his rider,” Isshin said, glaring at Ichigo, holding his nose with one hand. Ichigo snorted.</p>
<p>“No we couldn’t accept such a thing.” Rukia said wide-eyed.</p>
<p>“So, you don’t want to get back to the Sovereignty on time, then?” Urahara continued, waving his fan lightly, like it was hot in the drafty room. Renji and Rukia shared a look between them and sighed simultaneously. <em>Looks like they’ll be taking a horse after all.</em></p>
<p>----------------------------------</p>
<p>After the two Sovereignty…spies? Agents?...<em>weirdo’s,</em> he decided, left, Ichigo went back down to the kitchens. He’d spoken to Orihime while those two met with his father, but he wanted to make sure. They were friendly enough, he supposed, but still. Everything was suspicious, especially since Isshin was leaving him in the dark as per usual. Chad and Uryu were there, as well as Karin and Yuzu. Yuzu was cooking away at the large stove, the smell of greasy meat making Ichigo’s stomach grumble in hunger.</p>
<p>“You’re sure that’s all they wanted?” he heard Uryu badger Orihime, as he swung the door open, not bothering to announce himself. He walked over to the stove and swiped a piece of fried meat from it, chomping down on hot, crispy goodness. Yuzu hit his hand with her wooden spoon. Orihime laughed as she looked from Uryu’s frowning face to Ichigo and back to the archer once more.</p>
<p>“Yep! They just wanted to know if Ichigo was back and who they could speak to.” She grabbed the final roll from the woven basket she sat next to on the table. <em>Why did no one bother to use chairs?</em></p>
<p>“That’s it?” Ichigo asked through crunching. Orihime clapped her hands on her face suddenly. Eyes wide and worried.</p>
<p>“Oh no! I can’t believe I forgot!”</p>
<p>Ichigo, Uryu, and Chad exchanged a serious look, their shoulders stiffening. What now?</p>
<p>“Rukia wanted the bunny bread recipe! Has she left already Ichigo?” Ichigo frowned at her, <em>of course that’s what she was worried about.</em>  </p>
<p>Ichigo groaned. She should’ve sent them with a few baskets of it, she’d made at least a million of them.  </p>
<p>“What, did you use up all the kingdoms flour making these?” Ichigo asked, waving a misshapen bunny in the air before biting off its head. “And yeah, they left an hour or so ago?”</p>
<p>Orihime pouted, frowning cutely at no one in particular. Karin snorted from her position beside Yuzu as she snagged a piece of meat off the plate Yuzu was placing it on.</p>
<p>“She wouldn’t’ve had to, had <em>someone</em> acted like a mature adult,” Uryu shot at him. Ichigo glared back.</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up, four eyes, you weren’t there—”</p>
<p>“I didn’t need to be to know that you overreacted—”</p>
<p>“Overreacted?! Why you little—"</p>
<p>“What’s done is done,” Chad said, cutting the both of them off.</p>
<p>“Whatever,” both men said, crossing their arms and turning around. Orihime and Yuzu laughed. He heard Karin sigh. The mood lightened considerably after that. Eating and chatting came normally, no more discussions of the two strangers popping into their lives and leaving as suddenly.</p>
<p> Chad mentioned a small nest of baby rabbits he’d found sheltered in a corner of the stable wall earlier in the day. Orihime squealed, wanting to see them immediately.</p>
<p>“Orihime, it’s raining.”</p>
<p>“Then we need to protect them!”</p>
<p>“Rain’s coming from the east; they’re safe on the west.” Chad said softly looking down at the small shaped bread fitting nicely in his hand. It was so tiny compared to his size. Good thing he was basically a teddy bear in a large man’s body.  </p>
<p>“When is Tatsuki supposed to be back, anyway?” Ichigo asked, trying to get off the bunny subject already. Orihime turned to him, big smile on her face.</p>
<p>“Soon I hope! But with the rain pouring down like it is, I doubt it won’t be until after it’s stopped. The roads are so dangerous in the rain.”</p>
<p>Ichigo frowned. The roads outside the kingdom were definitely an issue. Maybe he should bring it up to his father sometime; safety of the citizens should be a top priority, right? Ichigo shook his head slightly then, earning an eyebrow quirk from Uryu. He flipped the dark-haired man off then, just for fun.</p>
<p>“You’re much too crude for a prince,” Uryu said, hand sliding into his jacket for a moment, and pulling out a simple and small leather-bound notebook. It looked handmade, Ichigo figured it was probably his little doodle notebook for his clothing sketches. <em>Of course he’d go the extra mile and make the damned thing himself.</em></p>
<p>“Speaking of which,” he continued, opening the book to a certain page.</p>
<p>Uryu showed them some rough sketches of a <em>very</em> raunchy corset and skirt design. Colored different shades of brown, the corset stopped right before the flat chest, giving ample viewing to the wearer’s breasts, laced tightly straight down the middle, with a rope like sleeve going around the arm and flattening to brace against shoulders and back of the neck. It was paired with a gold chained belt, orange long flowing skirt barely attached to the middle circle and wrapped loosely around one side. A side profile showed the models legs wearing laced up socks of some kind. <em>Leather maybe? </em>Ichigo whistled.</p>
<p>“Tch, and you say I’m the crude one,” Ichigo said, squinting at the designs and turning them over, trying to not let heat rush up into his face like some innocent maiden. “When <em>you’re</em> the one sketching pornography in your little pervert notebook.” Uryu frowned, pushing his glasses further up on his nose and cleared his throat, ears a little pinker than normal.</p>
<p>“Actually, these ideas are Karin’s, I just sketched them. We thought it would aid you in your…courting endeavors.” Karin immediately started laughing, clutching at her sides; everyone else joined in after a moment. Ichigo was sure his face was glowing crimson at this point.</p>
<p>Not knowing what else to do to keep whatever dignity he had intact, he threw his arms straight at his supposed friend. Uryu leapt up from the table and ran out the door, Karin straight behind him. He heard his remaining friends, if he could even call them that, still laughing loudly behind him. <em>I’ll get them next.</em></p>
<p>“You’re both fuckin’ dead!” he shouted, as they raced through the corridors. At one point, they split from each other, and Ichigo, still feeling murderous intent, decided it could be taken out on the archer. He chased him around the castle for at least half an hour, running into Karin a couple times and giving her a nice little noogie for being a little shit. He nearly ran over Shinji, who had apparently been wandering around the castle aimlessly, since he couldn’t do anything outside in the rain.</p>
<p>“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” he yelled after him, but Ichigo ignored him, opting to raise a middle finger at him instead. White moved quickly in the corner of his eye, and Ichigo was off again. <em>Your stupid jacket-cape-poor fashion choice gave you away, moron.</em> Racing down the hall, turning the corner sharply, Ichigo almost slipped in his socked feet, but regained his footing because he was a warrior, thank you very much. Glancing around the dimly lit hall, he didn’t see any movement. <em>Maybe it was just a trick of the eye? </em>Uryu was known for being a crafty bastard, if nothing else.</p>
<p>And he had given Ichigo the slip it seemed, so he was forced to use sneaking maneuvers instead. Looking around, Ichigo noticed he’d ducked into his father’s chambers. <em>Uryu wouldn’t be here, he’d rather shit his pristine white trousers than be caught dead in Isshin’s quarters. </em> </p>
<p>Turning around to head back to the kitchens where he’d left his <em>real</em> friends and the one sister that actually loved him, he stopped, looking around. He’d thought he’d heard something. A creak? Wall torches were flickering lowly; they would probably smolder out soon. Cold from the stone floor began to penetrate the thickness of his socks; he wiggled and flexed his toes, trying to warm them back up. He preferred wooden floors, even if they were nosier.</p>
<p>“You seem a little…stressed, my King,” he heard. Ichigo recognized Urahara’s voice, but it had lost all traces of its usual goofiness. Rare was it when he was actually serious, but when he was, shit was going down. Ichigo looked around a darkened corner and noticed the door to his father’s library…council room…thing was slightly ajar. A library certainly didn’t seem like a place his father would hang out in much; <em>doesn’t seem like the novel type, the big hairy turd.</em> Ichigo had only ever caught him with what amounted to a medieval playboy book, the perv. He shuddered at the memory.</p>
<p>“Tch,” he heard shuffling, like moving paperwork, “And you’re surprised, why exactly?”</p>
<p>Urahara sighed, and it sounded like he tapped his cane on the ground a couple times. Ichigo rolled his eyes; he could play the feeble, crippled advisor all he wanted, but that man was demon in battle. Ichigo had spied on him and Shinji spar once, left him amazed and, honestly, a little frightened at how strong the older man was. Good thing he was usually so laidback, otherwise he’d be a real problem.  </p>
<p>“The boy will find out one way or another. We both know that,” Urahara said, voice low and…did he sound sad? Or was that just Ichigo’s ear’s playing tricks on him. He needed to get closer to hear everything they said. Were they talking about him? Leaving him out of stuff again? <em>Damnit, I’m twenty-three years old, not a child</em>. Silently, he slid across the floor on his socked feet, until his back pressed against the wall, directly left of the door. He heard his father sigh.</p>
<p>“I know, but now is simply not the right time.” <em>Time for what?</em> Was he talking about marriage proposals again? <em>I swear if they are really picking out someone for me to marry right this damned second, I’m setting both their beds on fire. </em> </p>
<p>“It will never the right time.”</p>
<p>“Not if it doesn’t come from me.”</p>
<p>Urahara said nothing for a while. Ichigo was getting progressively more confused. There talks were sounding less and less about marriage, and more about confessing? <em>Oh my god. They’ve already married me off to someone and haven’t told me yet.</em> The thought burned hot in his stomach, his head. Clenching his fists, he steadied himself to slam the door either open or shut, either way would grab their attention. Maybe bash his old man’s head against the wall too, if he felt so inclined. <em>If they fuckin’</em>—</p>
<p>“What if he remembers? The Espada…” Ichigo stopped cold. That strange man from a few days ago…he’d asked him about the espada as well. So Isshin did know something after all. And what was he not supposed to remember? Did they know about the man in the woods, the pink haired one? He was one of these so called espada, right? That’s what the blue haired man had him believe, anyway.</p>
<p>Urahara sounded like he was walking closer to the king then, probably putting a hand on his shoulder or something grossly comforting. Ichigo really missed the happy-go-lucky side of him, this was much worse. Serious Urahara was unnerving.</p>
<p>“He will remember anyway, in time. You know about his nightmares.”</p>
<p>“Nightmares are unreliable at best,” his father retorted sharply. Ichigo clenched his jaw. <em>They know about the nightmares? How long?</em>  They’d become more frequent the last few years, and always violent, but he’d never mentioned them to anyone.</p>
<p>“Yes. But they always contain fragments of truth and fear, woven together in a tapestry of sorrow. If his memories resurface in his dreams, which I suspect they already have, you’ll be answering more questions than you want to deal right now. Especially with the Seireitei getting involved, and the Espada on the move.”</p>
<p>Isshin sighed, and Ichigo backed away. This was definitely something he shouldn’t be hearing; he didn’t <em>want</em> to hear. Not anymore. His nightmares. They were bloody, dripping, gushing, frothing. But it was never his blood. In every one, he was always silent. Voice always empty; he screamed but nothing reached his ears. No vibrations in his throat. The emptiness scared him the most. Pulse quickening, he retreated even more into the castle, hands combing through unruly hair, the earlier chase forgotten entirely.</p>
<p><em>I need to find that man again, </em>Ichigo thought finally. He had mentioned the espada, maybe he would know something. He <em>had </em>too. Almost tripping over himself, Ichigo ran through the castle, barely stopping to jam on and lace his boots, as he raced to the stables where he knew Zangetsu would be. Twisting around the halls, he was thankful he didn’t run into anyone this time.</p>
<p>His quick trot outside told him the rain had let up, clouds gray and heavy, but withholding their showers for a brief while. <em>I have to find him quickly.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo replayed what little he could remember about his encounter with the pink haired man, and then what he thought the other had said as he unlatched Zangetu’s stall, not bothering to even put his bridle on. That man…he <em>knew</em> something. Had this espada…tried to hurt him too? Had they succeeded? Is that where that scar had come from? Ichigo shuddered at the thought.</p>
<p>Throwing a leg over his horse quickly, he pushed him outside in the muddy ground; he’d have to take it a little slower, even while his head was reeling, churning around questions he had no answer for. He didn’t want to risk hurting Zangetsu on the slick ground. Ichigo didn’t know what time it was, but it would be dark in a couple hours. <em>I need to hurry.</em></p>
<p>Pushing the horse in the same direction they traveled barely a week ago, Ichigo hoped he could find the man, his vivid blue eyes blinking momentarily in his mind. Once Zangetsu entered the forest boundary, the ground was a little drier; Ichigo felt better about urging him faster, as he leapt over fallen logs. Even in barely a weeks’ time, the trees had leafed out considerably, shutting out most of the remaining light from the sky.</p>
<p>He thought back to his dreams. The last one he was little again, a knife in his hand, bloody. His hand had hurt. Blood dripped to the floor, and he knew, whatever happened, it was bad. The floor opened into darkness and he was falling away, into a black pit of nothingness. Skeletal hand, flesh and muscle hanging limply from exposed bones, reached towards him, shoving cold, red fingers into his open mouth. He tried to scream, but like always, he was met with the indifference of the silence.</p>
<p><em>That can’t be a coincidence, right?</em> Ichigo shook his head, face set in a deep scowl, eyebrows pinched almost painfully together. This wasn’t the time to think about this shit.</p>
<p>Deeper, deeper, he pushed Zangetsu, holding onto his mane tightly. Coarse hair spinning around his white knuckles. His chest was tight. So tight. When did it get so tight? <em>Oh god, am I dying? Is this what dying feels like because I feel like I’m dying</em>. Over a slick fallen tree, thick trunk, overgrown in moss and fungi, the rain began to fall down on them, but he couldn’t feel it. Was he cold? No. Numb? That was closer. Could he feel anything? What did feeling feel like?</p>
<p>Visions swirled in his mind in blinding speed. Blood pooling. Drip, drip, drip onto a stone floor. Cold stone. Gray. A woman’s face, smiling face, moving lips. She was saying something. Something. What was it? Her last words? Bloody finger, pointing accusingly. At what? He could almost feel the knife in his hand, the red staining his clothes, his skin. His eyes burned.</p>
<p>A flash of something in his peripheral vision. Orange hair. Green dress. <em>Soul?</em> Ichigo thought, eyes shifting quickly in the growing darkness of the forest.</p>
<p>Ichigo pulled on Zan’s mane, forcing him to slide to a stop and slid off, falling on his ass onto the muddy ground. Rain had begun to fall, wetting his shirt, his trousers. Looking down at himself, he realized he should’ve worn a jacket. Movement again, on the left side, darting behind a tree. His eyes felt fuzzy, blinking away rain trickling into his face from his matted down hair.</p>
<p>“Wait!” He yelled out, following the woman. Was that his mother’s soul? That was even better, he could ask her! She would surely know something, especially if his father did. Forget the grouchy hermit living in a shack in the haunted woods.  </p>
<p>“Please, wait!” He felt his sword hit his leg in its sheath. He didn’t even realize he’d brought it along, but was relieved when he looked down, staring briefly at the pommel. He could defend himself this time, if one of those Espada bastards came at him. Zangetsu whinnied behind him as he ran forward, surging over another massive, half rotted trunk. He turned slightly, looking at his horse who seemed panicked.  </p>
<p>“Go home Zan! I’ll be back in a while,” was that <em>his </em>voice? It sounded strained, like it didn’t belong to him. He felt his throat rumble when he said the words, but it didn’t feel like anything came out. Zangetsu whinnied again in protest, louder, and reared on two legs as Ichigo turned back around. He looked back briefly in apology. It was too dangerous to ride him in the rain, especially in the forest.  </p>
<p>He had to find the woman; he <em>must.</em> If it was his mother, and she would be able to tell him something, he <em>knew</em> it. As he ran, he agreed with a part of him, one that never believed what his father had said about her death. She was always so happy, loved her family so much, what he said didn’t make sense. He’d come to accept he’d never know the actual story--always told she snapped, the pregnancy with the twins had been hard, mind warped by pain, died by her own hand. B<em>ut why so many cuts?</em> Ichigo always thought, not knowing where exactly that thought came from. What cuts? What was he talking about? <em>What cuts,</em> he thought once more. <em>There were no cuts to remember, right? My dreams are the only thing that bleed.</em></p>
<p>Rushing through the thickening trees, weaving between trucks and branches, Zangetsu’s whinny fading as he ran, something flashed in his vision again. As a force knocked against his back, hard, and he flew forward, landing on his hand and knees in dead leaves mixed into mud. Spinning his head around, he was met with two shining blue eyes.</p>
<p>“You,” he breathed out. Exhaling air he didn’t know he’d been keeping captive. The explosion in his chest releasing into strained breaths, head pounding.</p>
<p>“What, couldn’t get enough o’me the first-time shitty prince?” the blue haired man sneered. Black hood over his head, protecting him very little, to be honest. It looked like his cloak was soaked, blue hair hanging limply in his face. Ichigo barely heard the insult.</p>
<p>“A woman…green dress...”Ichigo forced out from clenched teeth as the man just stared at him, raising an eyebrow. <em>Damn </em>was his whole body shaking? He felt like the earth was quaking beneath him, limbs straining.</p>
<p>“S-she…ran past…a second ago,” he was struggling to breathe, his chest was so tight. His arms, legs…everything was wet and cold and—</p>
<p>“Seems like yer inna good place right now.”</p>
<p>Ichigo looked around, eyes wild. This was the man he was looking for right? He suddenly wasn’t sure; all he could think of was the woman. It was his mother, right? It had to be….</p>
<p>Something knocked against the back of his head, shaking him from his thoughts. A hand on the back on his head, held firm even in soggy hair. He saw blue eyes up close for a moment, before his face was forced into the wet ground. He turned at the last second, so he crashed into the mud on his cheek instead of inhaling it directly through his nose. Mud splattered all over his face with a disgusting squelch. The smell wasn’t any better, felt like his face was rubbing into a fresh, cold pile of horse shit.</p>
<p>Released from the hold, he pushed back, unsticking his face from the mud and wiping it away on his wet and dirty sleeve. It didn’t do much, to be honest, except smear it around. He tried the other sleeve, with about the same result. He felt the man staring, judging him in his sorry state.</p>
<p>That punch to his back had knocked some sense back into Ichigo, as he shook his head and opening his eyes, hoping they were clear of grime and grit. His panic began to subside. Sucking in a lungful of clean, albeit damp, air, he felt fog clear from his mind a little. <em>That vision wasn’t real</em>, he told himself. <em>She was long dead and couldn’t tell him anything.</em> Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused on his breathing, hands planted on the ground in front of him, head down. He let the mud squeeze through his open fingers and concentrated on that for a few seconds. The rain pattered down on his back as he sat crouched, breathing in and out in controlled breaths.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>But this guy could.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ichigo opened his eyes to glare over at the man, who was just standing in the rain like a stupid stone wall, arms crossed, a sneer spread across his face under dripping blue hair. He had some mud splattered on his black pants and across one arm. Looking at the man while not under the effect of that horrible paralysis poison, Ichigo could clearly see him. His clothes clung to him in the wetness like a second skin, showing off an incredibly muscular body. He had more bulk than Ichigo’s leaner, wiry frame, and he’d put the hood down, not that it had done him much good in the first place, black cloak sticking to his arms like a another shirt.</p>
<p> He was a few inches taller than him too. A scar tore across the right side of his jaw, making the already intimidating man look even more so. Angular face, sharp nose, and teal marks swept under his eyes brought out the blueness of his eyes, and accented the darkness beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. And really pissed off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>And fuckin’ hot as hell.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> Ichigo swallowed that last thought deep in his throat. That would be a crisis for later.   </p>
<p>“I need to talk to you,” Ichigo said, standing up slowly and taking a step towards him, testing the shakiness of his legs. He was pleased when he felt no tremors running through him.</p>
<p>“Not a chance in hell, kid.” The man didn’t move.</p>
<p>“Sorry, but I can’t take no for an answer this time.”</p>
<p>“Tch,” the man scoffed, spitting on the ground in front of them for good measure. “Do you ever?”</p>
<p>Ichigo frowned. <em>What the hell is that supposed to mean?</em> Ichigo rested a dirty hand on top of his sword, arching an eyebrow at the man. He didn’t figure the man would say anything more if asked, and to be honest, the prickling in his shoulders, down his spine, made him want to fight. And this guy looked like he’d oblige without question.</p>
<p>“Then I will force you,” he said, drawing his sword in one swift motion. The man growled, his eyes flicking over his sword.</p>
<p>“The fuck you won’t.” He didn’t even bother to uncross his arms, but Ichigo didn’t see any obvious weapon. <em>Is this guy for real?</em></p>
<p>He couldn’t afford to waste any more time; it was getting dark and the wolves would come soon. Lunging at the man, Ichigo swung his sword in a wide arc, close to the man’s body, but not close enough for a direct hit. Couldn’t get answers out of a dead man, after all. He didn’t move back out of the swords reach, instead stretching out a single arm, clad in what looked like a leather bracer, and stopped his blade.</p>
<p><em>That’s impossible. That’s…That’s just leather right? </em>Ichigo knew the swing should’ve taken his hand off in a clean cut, regular leather wasn’t enough to stop a sword of his caliber, especially with as much force as he put behind it. Seeing faint purpled sparks erupt from the bracer, Ichigo clenched his teeth.</p>
<p> <em>Fuck, it’s enchanted, </em>Ichigo cursed internally. <em>He didn’t use an incantation</em>; if he was even half as good as Urahara was, he was in for some serious trouble. Not knowing what the color meant, Ichigo stepped back slightly.</p>
<p>In one motion the man surged forward, hauling his fist back and swung straight at Ichigo’s face, which he barely dodged. <em>Shit he’s fast.</em> <em>One punch from that, and it’s lights out for life, </em>Ichigo thought, eyes wide and panicked for only a moment. He could feel the power radiating from the proximity. <em>Maybe it’s a strength enhancement spell?</em> He really hoped the man only knew how to use enchanted objects, not do the enchanting part himself.</p>
<p>They danced around each other for a few minutes, neither swinging sword or fist at the other, rain beginning to pour. Ichigo glanced toward the fading light in the sky for a moment and growled to himself. This was turning into a really shitty day.</p>
<p>Ducking down with speed Ichigo didn’t think was possible, the man stuck out a foot and spun, knocking against his shins, sending him flat on his ass on the sloppy ground, throwing mud everywhere. Leaping at him, Ichigo parried his sword against the man’s leather clad wrists, watching as they sparked with a dangerous glow as they pushed back against each other.</p>
<p>Thrusting the man back, Ichigo swiped his sword, slicing his chest barely with the tip of his blade from hip to the top of his chest. It was a shallow cut, but it probably hurt like hell anyway. Blue growled and raised his fists back again and hurled them both against the ground, spraying them both in a thin coating of mud. Purple flowed out around them before sending Ichigo flying backwards, sword slipping from his wet fingers as he was nailed against a tree. <em>Fuck holy shit what was that?</em></p>
<p>Ichigo couldn’t breathe then, man was right on him, hand on his throat, muscles stiffened and Ichigo noted small scars littering his arm as his hand dug sharp nails into the flesh of his throat. Tightening and cutting off his air supply, Ichigo started to struggle. Sputtering, he clawed at his wrist for a moment before bending his chin down onto of blue’s hand, trapping it against his chest; reaching out with his opposite arm, locking his hand around the man’s wrist. Ichigo grabbed and pulled down, twisting his arm as he shot out his knee, nailing the man straight in the dick. His grip loosed as he let slip a groan of pain, and Ichigo concentrated, forcing a small amount of energy into the middle of his hand.</p>
<p>He was absolute shit at using magic, and although Urahara had tried to show him some stuff, he’d never had much luck with controlling it. Channeling it through his sword was so much easier, but even so, close range explosions did come in handy once and a while; pushing out with his other hand, fingers tucked into his palm and punched right in the chest, where he had sliced him, faint blue flashing at the direct hit, forcing the man staggering back, arms around his chest, gasping for breath. Ichigo’s back hit against the tree with, the expulsion of what little energy he’d gathered sending tendrils of pain through his arm. <em>That didn’t quite work, but whatever. </em></p>
<p>He swung his head around, trying to find his blade. <em>When I pictured a hermit, I thought of a sweet old man with a cane, not some fuckin’ jacked out wildcat with murder eyes. </em>This beast would only be stunned for a second and he really needed his sword—<em>shit where is it? </em>Ichigo spun his head forward only to see blue directly in front of him, fangs bared. <em>Oh fuck.</em></p>
<p>“Lights out, bitch,” he growled, the rumble in blue’s voice shooting straight to his dick. <em>That’s what does it? Really? This is literally the worst time.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo didn’t have time to register the fist sailing straight for his temple until he felt the connection to his face. <em>My brain is going to look like ‘Hime’s scrambled eggs. </em></p>
<p>He barely registered seeing his sword, stuck in the ground a few feet from him, as he was sent to the ground, pain shooting through his skull, vision darkening.</p>
<p>Lights out indeed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oof, Ichigo is having a real rough go. Poor dude. I try to write in batches. The next chapter is mostly done, but I want to get started on the next two before I post much more, so it may be a week or so, maybe longer since this week I've got a lot going on. You know how it is. As always, comments and kudo's are appreciated! I'll write regardless, but let's be real, they make me go a little faster lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The past is an old ghost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ichigo dreams once more, this time more vibrant than any others; when he wakes up, he's greeted with blue hair and an angry scowl. At least he's got him right where he wants him...right?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit longer!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 6: The past is an old ghost</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mom?” the small boy asked, walking gingerly over to the woman in the bed. Stone floor cold on his little bare feet, toes wiggling against it. There was red everywhere, like something spilled on her. He touched her hand, it was wet. She must’ve spilled a drink, he thought. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mama?” he asked again. He saw something shiny on the floor and picked it up. Jagged and sharp, it was bigger than his arm and heavy. It looked kind of like a knife, but it was weird shaped. Curved inwards at the tip and hooked. He put it back down on the floor, it was too heavy to hold for long. Clutching at the red sheets, the boy hauled himself onto the bed where his mother lay, resting. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Mom, they’re twins!” he said smiling, getting situated on the bed before turning to her “And I already love them so—”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He stopped and stared, eyes growing wide at the mangled slicing across her neck, dark red blood, almost black in the moonlight, spilling out down her neck and across her chest. The boy looked down, he had accidently sat in some of her blood, soaking into his silky pajama pants. As the white silk absorbed the heat and darkness of the blood, he felt something bad tasting rise in his throat. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He opened his mouth to scream for his father, but nothing came out. Trying again, same result. Hand shaking, throat burning, hot tears spilling from his eyes, he tried to touch her hands, but everything was frozen, eyes locked onto her neck. Her pretty face, peaceful, despite the butchery, a soft smile on her lips. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He didn’t feel himself falling forward until his face was buried in her hair, tears streaming down his face. Every noise caught in his throat like a fly in a spider’s web. Following the path of her arm, he noticed a small trail of blood, and down by her pointer finger, a small 5 was drawn in blood. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Her blood.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>His mother’s blood.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was suddenly acutely aware of blood soaking into the front side of his nightshirt, feeling wetness on his frontside. Body shaking, he tried to scream again but nothing came out. Hands on her chest, directly in the cooling crimson, he tried pushing himself up, but palms slipped in the wetness, smearing it all over her skin, his face. Everywhere. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was everywhere. His eyes, his mouth. He tasted, smelled, felt. The blood of his mother, the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, covered him like a scar. Staining everything in and under his skin with the last thing he’d ever see. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Ichigo didn’t remember falling onto her once more, hoping, praying it was a dream he’d wake up from. He didn’t remember how long he laid there, soaking up his mothers’ blood and trying to scream until darkness overtook him with warm, red hands. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>……………..</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ichigo jolted awake, body lurching forward, eyes snapping wide open instantly. He vaguely recalled his back was cold and damp. Sweat?</p>
<p> <em>No, the rain, </em>he remembered. Glancing around, there was a fire crackling before him, fish skewered on wooden spikes, cooking, smelling up what he assumed was a cave, if the jagged stone walls were anything to go by. Looking forward with distant, blank eyes, he recognized the face in front of him, glaring.</p>
<p>Leaning back against the cold stone, Ichigo sighed, breaking contact with the grouchy bastard in front of him; his head was <em>fuckin’ throbbing.</em> Red and yellow sparks from the fire spat out from the burning wood, reaching Ichigo’s arm and sizzling as it burned slightly. He guessed it hurt, but besides the aching of his temple, he couldn’t feel much else. Plus the shirt protected him, especially since it was still damp.</p>
<p>“Where am I this time?” he asked in a monotone, flicking the spark off before it could leave a scorch on his shirt. He didn’t really care, but he wanted to hear something other than the pounding of his head, and the twisting of his heart. <em>His mother…she’d been…</em></p>
<p>“You say that like this shit happens often,” the man in front of his gruffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. It looked like he’d torn up his shirt in order to bandage the cut Ichigo had given him earlier, dark blood soaking through the wet makeshift bandages. He felt his stomach clench at the sight. He was so sick of seeing blood.</p>
<p>“Something like that.” Ichigo absently wondered how he’d managed to bandage that up on his own, those wounds probably made it a huge pain in the ass. Or chest, in this case.</p>
<p>“How long this time,” voice still flat, cradling his aching head between his palms. The smell of fish made his stomach churn, but he forced the unpleasant rise in his throat down with effort. <em>Throwing up in front of this guy is the last straw.</em></p>
<p>“Couple hours,” came a response after a couple minutes. Ichigo grunted.</p>
<p>“No magic in your punch then?” he asked, trying to get his mind off everything swirling inside. He heard the man snort and shuffle around a little bit. Peering through his fingers, Ichigo noticed he was sitting cross-legged closer to the fire, flames highlighting pale flesh stretched over a very defined torso. He looked away, not wanting to think about <em>that</em> either.</p>
<p>“Tch. Were you wanting to die?”</p>
<p>Ichigo didn’t answer, rubbing circles around his temples. Coppery stench of fresh spilled blood still at the forefront of his mind, aching behind his eyes. He was sure he looked as shitty as he felt.  </p>
<p>“You’re a shit fighter by the way.” <em>Oh good, now I’m the same all over,</em> he thought as he raised his head out of his hands to glare at the man. He was watching Ichigo and his sluggish moves, fire sputtering and crackling in between them.</p>
<p>“Never been in a real fight, prince bitch?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been in plenty—”</p>
<p>“Not any life or death I bet.”</p>
<p>“Still managed to get you, asshole,” Ichigo snapped, glaring directly at his bandaged torso. It didn’t look like it was bleeding anymore, which was good. He wasn’t sure how much more blood he could take right now.</p>
<p>“One lucky hit doesn’t mean shit,” the man growled, leaning forward on one hand, face almost glowing in the firelight. Ichigo tried to look discretely at his sculpted abdominal muscles, a welcome distraction, if a dangerous one. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad the man who had saved him twice over was incredibly attractive, even with the scowl.  </p>
<p>“Oh so now I’m lucky? Make up your mind,” Ichigo spat back, leaning forward on a hand himself. He probably didn’t’ look near as intimidating as blue did, but damnit he could try.</p>
<p>“And for the record,” Ichigo continued, a small admission in his tone, his body, heavy. “I wasn’t aiming to kill you.”</p>
<p>“Tch, then why draw your blade at all,” he hissed out, face twisted in disgust, and leaned back, drawing his arms together to cross in front of his chest. <em>Definitely bad.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ichigo didn’t have a reply to that. So instead the two men glared at each other in uncomfortable silence. But his head was feeling better by the distraction, so that was definitely something.</p>
<p><em>Maybe I draw it for different reasons, you lunatic,</em> he thought bitterly, looking to the fish once more. They were starting to smell good, and he didn’t remember eating before he’d left in a panic. Glancing over at the man, a dark look crossed his features, the sharpness of his cheekbones harsher. His breath was shallow, jaw clenching and unclenching, nose wrinkling up in disgust. He locked eyes on Ichigo, and narrowed his gaze, blue eyes almost slitting in the light.<em> Definitely bad,</em> Ichigo thought again.</p>
<p>“You’re all the same,” blue spat out finally, baring his teeth. <em>Fangs, more like it,</em> Ichigo noticed.</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ichigo shot back.</p>
<p>“You <em>royals</em>,” he seethed. “Sittin’ up in yer little castle—”</p>
<p>“What are you—”</p>
<p>“Lookin’ down on everyone else,” Ichigo narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“I don’t—”</p>
<p>“Never worked a hard day in your life—”</p>
<p>“You don’t know a damn—”</p>
<p>“Fight like a pussy, betcha never even seen a dead—”</p>
<p>“What the fuck kind of contest is that supposed to be?” Ichigo shouted, lunging out at the man finally, throwing a fist aiming directly for his injured torso, which he blocked with ease. Hand curling around Ichigo’s in a vice grip, Ichigo used two fingers on his other hand and dug straight into the bandaged wound, curling into the cut, blood beginning to seep into the shirt again. Blue hissed in pain, shoving Ichigo back against the rock wall, and Ichigo’s stomach lurched at the sight of fresh blood, the smell causing his stomach to twist uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“<em>Why you fuckin’—”</em></p>
<p>“Look you bastard,” Ichigo said, trying to swallow down his bile and getting right back in the man’s face, barely giving him room to breathe, “I don’t know what happened to you or what the fuck your problem is,” Ichigo swallowed.</p>
<p>“But I came here to ask you about the espada, and I’m not leaving empty handed. So, either tell me what you know, or I’ll reopen more of that wound,” he lied. He <em>really</em> didn’t want to follow up on that threat, and with the way his stomach churned, he didn’t think he’d last much longer anyway. <em>Maybe I could vomit on him and run, that would show him,</em> he thought bleakly. <em>Then I’d go and seppuku myself in the middle of the damned forest.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo was so close he could see his reflection in the glaring blue eyes in front of him. Dying in a cave with a madman wasn’t exactly the way he imagined he’d go, but whatever. Blue slowed his breathing down, Ichigo assumed he was trying to calm himself, and it was <em>maybe</em> working, even though Ichigo had a feeling this guy had never truly been calm a day in his life. Swallowing whatever pride he could salvage at this point, Ichigo sighed and started with the best opening line he could think of.</p>
<p>“They killed my mother, at least, I think they did.”</p>
<p>Blue froze at that, eyes growing wide a split second before narrowing on him once again. Ichigo shifted away, and leaned back as much as he could against the wall, trying to relax his posture. If he showed no fear, he wouldn’t be perceived as a threat.</p>
<p>That’s how that worked right?</p>
<p>Wrong.</p>
<p>A strong hand wrapped around his throat.</p>
<p>“You’re lying.”</p>
<p>“W-why,” Ichigo strained out, clawing at the hand holding him in place. <em>Damn</em> he was strong. “why would I lie about that?” The hand squeezed harder, nails, sharp and claw-like, dug into his neck with such force, he didn’t think he’d be living for much longer.</p>
<p>Then the hand suddenly let go, dropping from Ichigo’s sight as he gasped for breath and started coughing. He could feel his gaze like white fire, burning the top of his head as he remembered how to breathe.</p>
<p>“Your communication skills,” he sucked in a lungful of air, “are shit.” Blue didn’t say anything, opting instead to study him like <em>maybe</em> Ichigo would turn into a small hairy goat right that second. <em>Why a goat? </em> They didn’t even have any goats at the castle, so what was his obsession with them all of a sudden. All he knew about them, were they were the perfect garbage disposal.</p>
<p>“Explain,” the man demanded suddenly, leaning back a little, body still tense. The spot where Ichigo had re-opened his wound was bleedingly sluggishly. <em>That’ll be a bitch to heal if it gets infected.</em> Briefly, Ichigo entertained a notion of bringing the weirdo back to the castle with him. <em>Bad idea. </em>He looked the man up and down quickly once more, from his crossed legs, the steady, if shallow, rising and falling of his chest, incredibly muscular body, to his thick neck, and finally up to his scowling face, eyes expectant and nearly glowing. <em>Very bad idea,</em> he thought again, swallowing thickly.</p>
<p> “Explain wh—”</p>
<p>“Why do you <em>think</em>, not know.” Ichigo tensed, he really didn’t want to dredge up the dream-memory-whatever the hell that was anytime soon, but it didn’t look like he’d have any other choice; after all, he was the one who brought it up. The man crossed his arms in front of his chest once more, expectantly.</p>
<p>“Ah, something I overheard my father say,” blue looked less than impressed at that answer.</p>
<p>“And…” he started, hesitant, clenching his jaw before continuing, begging his voice to steady itself, “in all of my dreams, I’m covered in her blood.”</p>
<p>The main raised a skinny blue eyebrow at that. Not giving him anytime to question, Ichigo persisted.</p>
<p>“But…I don’t think they’re dreams, at least not all of them…more like memories…resurfacing.” He could hear himself breathing as he listened to the small fire crackle between them.</p>
<p>“What kind of memories?” Ichigo sucked in a breath. Of course he’d want more details of his most painful dreams; he seemed like a bastard. Ichigo glanced over at him, but he actually looked serious, eyes intently focused on Ichigo and what he had already said.</p>
<p>So Ichigo told him about the dream.</p>
<p>He was a little boy who had found his mother’s slain body, half drowned in her own dark blood. Clothing drenched in pungent coppery smelling wetness, sinking into his flesh and bones. The five drawn onto the bed sheets in her own blood, with her own hand, a final message. Her soft smile, even in the face of a terrible, lonely death. Multiple gashes across her neck, like rage had taken over instead of the despair he’d been told about. She was always so cheerful; couldn’t wait to meet the new baby. She had never known they were twins. It didn’t make sense…</p>
<p>And then he couldn’t stop talking.</p>
<p>Everything spilled out onto this…this stranger.</p>
<p> How his father had found Orihime sheltered under her brother’s dead body, killed in a way he realized now was quite similar to his mother. She didn’t speak for nearly a year after he had brought her to the castle, eyes always glassy and far off. It was Tatsuki, a girl who’d ran away from her family and joined his, who had reached her, finally, over something as mundane as cooking. He told him how terrible she was at it. She loved cooking, but was so, so bad at it, unless she was stressed out. Then somehow, someway everything she cooked was amazing. But she’d also thrown a knife at him once, when she was stress-baking and Ichigo hadn’t talked to her for a month.</p>
<p>Tatsuki just laughed and told her she had good aim; she was away often now, proving herself to be a decent strategist and wanting to learn more about combat styles to better train some of the soldiers.</p>
<p>Chad, he said, had been found wandering the roads between kingdoms. Sold by his family to be a soldier in battles he didn’t want to fight because of his size. His strength was unnatural, but he was the strongest when he was gentle, always bending down to help anyone up. His particular affinity with animals, probably because he was so calm, never prone to bouts of anger, even in incredibly stressful situations. A voice of reason in the darkest of times, he was Ichigo’s closest friend.</p>
<p>Uryu was complicated. His father had often bickered and fought with Ichigo’s own father, and had never gotten along particularly well with his son, but when Ryuken had left for a special mission when Uryu was twelve and never returned, Isshin had personally recounted whatever details he wanted to know about him. Ichigo never saw Uryu cry, but he often heard him, as he passed by his room, always trying to hide it. Ichigo sat outside his room once and told him about his mother, when he still believed she’d killed herself, and Uryu listened. They’d shared their grief together, and healed together, over time. Now they just enjoyed bickering with each other, even though neither of them would ever admit it.</p>
<p>“It’s basically a castle full of orphans,” Ichigo said finally, completely drained. Everything felt empty, head, heart, soul, everything. But this time, it was a calming kind of empty. <em>Every glass needs to be emptied before it can be filled again,</em> Urahara’s voice rang through his mind. A piece of nonsense wisdom Ichigo had thought at the time. <em>Guess he knows what he’s talking about every once and a while. </em></p>
<p>Ichigo looked over to the man, who had drug himself away from the fire to lean against the opposite side of the cave wall, putting at least ten feet between them. Ichigo couldn’t see his expression very well, but he didn’t seem like he was asleep, so he decided to ask again.</p>
<p>“You know stuff about them, don’t you?” Ichigo asked, leaning forward, hand reaching for a fish. He felt something hit his hand sharply, sending a small spike of pain into his arm. He hissed quietly and withdrew his hand, watching as a small rock hit the floor with a <em>clunk</em>.</p>
<p>“Eat it now and you’ll be throwing up in half an hour.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>------------------------------</p>
<p>They hadn’t spoken while eating the fish. Ichigo wasn’t a huge fan of it, but he was hungry, and complaining wouldn’t do him any good. Blue hadn’t said much of anything since Ichigo had metaphorically spilled his guts to the man. He knew he should feel embarrassed about baring it all to a stranger, but…it felt more like catharsis than anything else. He threw his scorched fish skewer into the fire along with the remaining fish bones still hanging onto it.</p>
<p>“Look, I think you know key details about them or something? Did they give you that scar on your face?” He asked finally, breaking the silence. The man absently rubbed the scar across his jaw, not bothering to look his way, still focusing on eating his second fish. There was still one burning on the fire, and Ichigo decided if he really wanted it, he could have that one too. <em>Probably needs all the protein he can get, the meathead.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo tried a different approach.</p>
<p>“If you don’t want to tell me, at least come back with me and tell my father.” Isshin wasn’t a bad guy, sure a huge perv and a dumb-ass at times, but he had a big heart, and hey this guy seemed like he fit orphan material, so he’d fit right in, minus the fact he was a grown man, probably older than Ichigo. The man snorted at that.  </p>
<p>“I won’t be caught dead in any kingdom, especially one run by a fool.” Ichigo’s heart sunk, but he wasn’t going to push the issue any further. He groaned, giving up. If earlier was anything to go by, he certainly couldn’t force him to go with him, so instead of saying anything more, he stood. His whole day had been a complete waste of time.</p>
<p>“Where t’hell you think yer going?” Blue eyes followed his movements as Ichigo started walking away.</p>
<p>“Keep your secrets. I’m going home.” He was irritated, and he knew it showed on his face because he wasn’t bothering to hide it anymore. He didn’t expect much from his confessional outpouring earlier, and certainly didn’t think he deserved anything, but he had held out hope. Anything at this point would’ve made the journey not a complete waste of time, and having that hope squashed under a blue haired, black booted bastard was too much for right now. At least it didn’t sound like it was raining anymore. Walking back would be a huge pain in the ass.</p>
<p><em>I wonder if Zangetsu</em> made it back okay. He felt another pang of guilt at leaving his poor horse to fend for himself. <em>I’m honestly the worst, he’s going to shit all over me as soon as he finds me. Or bite the hell outta me.</em></p>
<p>Walking out the cave entrance, Ichigo made sure to grab his sword, which had been placed neatly leaning upright against the wall. Sliding it into its sheath, he continued on, heading outside. He was sure he’d run into some wolves, but he really didn’t care. Let them come, he could blow off some steam if they attacked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t have to go far to cross paths with a particularly nasty pack. In the moonlight the crescent in the sky allowed, he could tell there was something desperately wrong with these wolves. They all had the holes through them, which was unfortunately normal, but they appeared to be leaking some kind of oozing black substance.</p>
<p><em>Blood?</em> He thought. Ichigo had never seen anything like it before as he watched sable matter drip onto the soggy ground. He swallowed his disgust as the front most wolf growled, showing off long, curved, and…<em>double fangs? What the fuck?</em> He didn’t see the normal wolves often, but he was positive they didn’t look…like <em>this.</em></p>
<p>He unsheathed his sword in one clean motion as the front wolf lunged, jaws splitting open to bare every fang, and he swung, slicing its face in two as the others pawed the ground and charged.</p>
<p>This behavior wasn’t natural for them, even if it was so close after the new moon. As more approached, he could smell a distinct foul odor, and assumed it was whatever was leaching from their holes. Two tried to flank him from the right side as another raced straight towards him. <em>Tch, why draw your blade at all,</em> the man’s voice echoed inside his head.</p>
<p><em>Oh fuck you,</em> Ichigo replied, and switched his grip, wrapping his right hand fully around the grip of the sword and steadying his left hand on the pommel. Channeling his energy into the enchantment on the blade, he waited until the wolf in front lunged, and swept his sword around him, throwing out a thick stream of swirling blue energy into the air. He watched as it cut deep into the skull of the lunging creature, and slashed the legs of the two flanking him.</p>
<p>Reversing the direction of his blade, another mass of energy tumbled out of the sharp edge of his sword, slicing against blood and bone. He heard cracking as it ripped through the two on his side, but refused to look away from the damage. If he was going to kill something, he needed to face it head on. The three other wolves, reared their heads to the crescent moon sky and howled, their cries disjointed and distorted. Almost croaking, rather than howling. They eyed him for a moment, their great heads, shining red gaze observing him for a moment before turning around and fleeing.</p>
<p>“Hey, wait you leaky bastards!” he yelled towards them, but they had already disappeared into the darkness of the trees, their paws echoing on the sloppy ground in squishing, wet slaps. Only silence as he breathed, slowing his heart rate, not daring to put his sword away, not yet. It had been quite some time since he’d needed to use the enchantment, he’d almost forgot how. And he <em>definitely</em> forgot how exhausting it was if he wasn’t prepared for it. Sagging shoulders shuddered as he heaved one final sigh.  </p>
<p>“Holes don’t normally leak. That freak must’ve got to’em,” a voice behind him said suddenly.</p>
<p>Ichigo spun around, meeting blue. The man shrugged carelessly and continued. “You’ve met him. Pink hair. Name is Szayel. Espada.” Ichigo’s eyes widened. So he was finally gonna talk, huh? <em>‘Bout damn time</em>.</p>
<p>“That’s one hellova blade ya got there,” he whistled, sauntering up to him like it was nothing. “Yer better with this freaky sword than I thought you’d be.” Ichigo glared up at him, as he continued closing the distance between them and leaned against a huge bolder a few feet away. <em>Had he been there the whole time?</em></p>
<p>“Were you just going to let them eat me?” Ichigo asked, sheathing his sword quickly and crossing his arms like a petulant child.</p>
<p>“If you were weak enough to get killed by them, pretty much.”  </p>
<p>“What do you want now?” Ichigo asked, adjusting the leather strap belting around him, holding his sword against his hip. He didn’t hear anymore howls, so he was probably safe for the time being. At least from the wolves. “Are you going to tell me about the espada?”</p>
<p>Ichigo thought he saw the man wince before he rubbed the mark along his jaw. Ichigo didn’t expect him to answer, and looked around at his surroundings. He’d passed a substantially sized rock, covered in thick moss and vines, on his way, bigger than the man’s house, and he didn’t recognize quite where he was going. Not that he had paid all that much attention when he’d trekked into the woods in his panicked crusade earlier. Trees had thinned out in this particular area, allowing the crescent sliver to shine what little light it could offer down on them.</p>
<p>“Killed my pack,” he said, finally, much to Ichigo’s surprise. He sighed, looking elsewhere. There was silence for a while as they stood in the forest. Illuminated by the moonlight, he noticed the man appeared deep in thought. <em>Are we close to his…house…place again?</em> Ichigo thought, contemplating over at him, as the man scratched at the wound on his bound chest. <em>He needs to get that looked at soon.</em> Ichigo opened his mouth—</p>
<p>“Grimmjow.” Ichigo closed his mouth, frowning at him slightly.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“My name, you shithead. It’s Grimmjow.” He certainly wasn’t expecting that. <em>That’s a mouthful.</em> Why hadn’t he asked his name earlier, anyway? Where were his manners? He frowned again. <em>Thrown into the mud along with my face, and then concussed. </em>That explained it then.</p>
<p>“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said finally. He’d mentioned his friend’s names earlier, but did he ever tell him his own? He didn’t remember. Grimmjow looked at him expectantly, leaning against the large rock jutting from the earth like it had grew there like a calcified tree.  </p>
<p>“What now?”</p>
<p>“What not gonna give me the whole spiel, crowned prince of fucktown and blah blah—”</p>
<p>“Grimmjow,” Ichigo said, feeling how the name rolled off his tongue. It was weird, but he liked it, in a strange way. Liked how his lips moved and parted at the syllables, how it almost felt like a growl, when the man introduced himself.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“You’re an ass.” The man flashed a grin at him, showing off his fangs, glinting slightly in the moonlight, and pushed off the rock like a toad hopping gracelessly into a pond made entirely of mud.</p>
<p>“Well, <em>Ku ro sa ki</em>,” he said, enunciating every syllable of his surname like it was some kind of spell, “if ya wanna get back to yer little castle, you’ll be goin’ that way ‘til hell freezes over.”</p>
<p><br/>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“You’re goin’ the wrong way, dipshit.” Heat rose to Ichigo’s face. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be, nothing else had gone right in the slightest. He frowned slightly at the man.</p>
<p>“Well then, why don’t you lead the way asshole,” he muttered, not bothering to look at him. Grimmjow laughed, having heard him.</p>
<p>“Tch, why don’t we just let him do all the heavy lifting?” Grimmjow said, and clicked his tongue a couple times. Ichigo eyed him with confusion until Zangetsu came walking out from behind the enormous rock formation, huffing angrily at his master as he trotted right up to him. Ichigo brightened, rushing up to his beloved horse, patting the sides of his muscular neck.</p>
<p>“Zangetsu! You’re—”</p>
<p>Teeth clamped right down on his left shoulder and held firm.</p>
<p>“Fuck you!” he yelled, swatting at the horse. He heard Grimmjow cackle off in front of him. Letting go, Zangetsu walked back over to him, snorting and sniffing around the man like he usually did Ichigo with apples.</p>
<p>“All out blackie,” he said, holding his hands up as if to prove his point. Ichigo couldn’t believe it. His own horse had disowned him for a weirdo who lived in a shack in the woods, probably ate bugs and fungus and weird-ass fish all day for whatever kind of fucky metabolism he had to have. He watched as the man effortlessly mounted <em>his </em>horse, and thought about letting Zangetsu get tuned into glue. He preened as Grimmjow ran a hand down his neck, patting him stiffly.</p>
<p>“You coming or does this mean I’m the prince of fucktown now?”</p>
<p>Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched and he half walked, half stomped up to his malevolent demon of a horse. What a weird night.</p>
<p>“<em>You traitor,”</em> he hissed at his horse as he approached. Zangetsu whinnied, pleased at his reactions and trotted a bit in place, the show off. Ichigo was surprised when the man held out his arm to help him up, and it must’ve shown on his face.</p>
<p>“You’re so short, didn’t figure you could reach,” he offered, explaining himself with a grin.</p>
<p>“Oh fuck you, I should just yank you off and leave you here,” Ichigo quipped, slapping his hand away, clamping a hand on the mans thigh instead and swinging a leg over, feeling pleased when Grimmjow’s body tensed at the action. <em>At least we’re both uncomfortable now.</em> Situating himself behind the man, Zangetsu neighed, displeased with the added weight on his back.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Zan. Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll fall off.”</p>
<p>“Tch, if anyone falls off, it’s gonna be you.” Grimmjow said before kicking the horse lightly in the side, indicating he needed to move.</p>
<p>Instead of a nice little trot, the asshole horse decided a gallop was better.</p>
<p> He could hear maniacal laughter from the man in front of him, and as Ichigo slipped his arms around the man’s waist, Ichigo really found himself hoping he’d make it home in one piece.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay finally they know each other's names!! This past week was brutal. Hopefully I'll have more time to work on this story this week, but this is literally the busiest time of the year for...like everyone, right? lol anyway, hope you enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lacuna</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We get to hear a little bit of Grimmjow's thoughts on the prince's ramblings and admissions, as he tries not to care all that much. And he definitely wasn't paying attention to the close quarters as they rode back on Kurosaki's dramatic-ass horse.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grimmjow listened with wide eyes as the ginger blurted out his entire fucking life story to him…a complete stranger, who’d punched him twice as much as he’d saved him, and half as much as he’d like to. <em>That desperate to talk, huh?</em> <em>Tch.</em></p>
<p>Well whatever, it didn’t look like the brat would be leaving until he got whatever off his lean chest. Grimmjow had snuck a few peaks at him while he blabbered about shit he’d rather not hear. Once, when the kid was unconscious, he’d actually lifted up the tunic and the thin undershirt underneath, <em>to make sure he wasn’t bleeding,</em> not because he wanted to see bare skin of someone else for a fucking change. This brat was the only person he’d had any sort of physical contact with for…he didn’t know, <em>fuckin’ years at this point.</em> Time didn’t really matter when he was all by himself. The group he’d been hunting sure as hell didn’t count, that and he couldn’t pinpoint their location anymore either.</p>
<p>Ginger kept prattling on and on, now about his friends, <em>whatever those were,</em> he thought with a sneer on his face. Two women and two men, if the names were anything to go by. He’d briefly entertained the notion of asking what they looked like, but he didn’t want to seem interested. Ginger would probably never shut the fuck up. He shifted against the cold stone and half listened.</p>
<p>Orphaned bad cook, runaway strategist, child soldier-turned horse-whisperer, and a temperamental archer with a daddy complex. What a <em>trip. </em>His friends sounded…interesting. <em>And by interesting, I mean fucked up.</em></p>
<p>The part before though, about his mother, or rather, the memory—that was more familiar than he’d thought it would be.<em> Damn that lanky bastard.</em> He remembered the bragging, hearing about it all those years ago, never thought it would come back, at least not like this.</p>
<p><em>Guess living in a castle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. </em>Brat seemed pretty rattled by it as well, not that Grimmjow could really blame him for it, he supposed he would feel similar. <em>Maybe not as big of a bitch about it though.</em> Shifting a little against jutting stone, uncomfortable with rocks pushing into his back at weird spots, he sat forward some, nearly hissing as he tried not to curl over himself.</p>
<p>The royal shit-for-brains had got him, whether he liked it or not. Wasn’t deep, but it was long and not in a great spot. Looking down, he frowned at the drying blood from where ginger had poked a couple nasty-ass fingers through, tearing open the clots, bleeding into the remains of his last black shirt. Clenching his fist, he tried to calm his breathing back down as he felt his hackles rise slightly at the remembered contact, and looked back at the kid.</p>
<p><em>Yap yap yap, is he still talking?</em> Sounded to him like his old man was some kind of sick orphan collector—traumatized children apparently flocked to his shitty little castle like gluttons to a banquet, the freak. Not that he cared.</p>
<p>Though, he had to admit to himself, if there had been a place like that when he was a kid….</p>
<p><em>No,</em> he thought, shaking his head in the darkness, blue hair hanging limply in front of his face, <em>that was a lifetime ago</em>. Using a single hand, he combed long fingers through his hair, sweeping it back as much as he could. His eyes grew heavy as the kid continued to blabber on about whatever the hell he needed to get off his chest. Since when did he decide Grimmjow was a damned therapist? He certainly wasn’t getting paid for it.</p>
<p>Maybe he could ignore him and heal his chest wound a little instead? He curled his lip into a sneer, <em>Nah, use up my remaining energy doin’ that, an’ it still wouldn’t be closed.</em> He figured he’d just have to wait it out. Little cuts were one thing. Big wounds required even temperament and hella patience, which he didn’t have on a good day. That and he didn’t know any advanced healing spells—<em>never needed them before, dunno why I’d start now.</em></p>
<p>But the kid did stop, words thinning out to vague looks and gestures until eventually silence took over. He looked as exhausted as Grimmjow felt and then some. <em>Fuckin’ finally</em>. Staring at the flames licking the wood of the fire, turning them to char and ash, his eyes looked pretty damn empty, Grimmjow noticed. Firelight reflecting off honeyed eyes, making them glow like he had swallowed some of the embers, now burning behind his gaze.</p>
<p>He stopped and raised a skinny blue eyebrow—<em>where had that come from? </em>Watching the ginger watch fire cook fish, he saw something in his head click as the brat reached out a hand.</p>
<p>“You know stuff about them, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Girmmjow threw a small rock towards the other man, nicking him on the top of his outstretched hand. “Eat it now and you’ll be throwing up in half an hour,” he growled.  <em>An’ who said any of that was for you, shithead? Do I look like I just eat one fish atta time?</em></p>
<p>….</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, I think you know key details about them or something? Did they give you that scar on your face?” ginger asked, throwing a half-eaten fish in the fire. Grimmjow couldn’t help thinking it was the most obnoxious color he’d ever seen—and he had every right to judge, if the blue mop crowing his own head was anything to go by. He didn’t bother answering; <em>let the kid think what he wants.</em> Grimmjow scratched his cheek as he growled to himself. He better not reach for the other fish if he was going to waste half the first one, the little prick.</p>
<p>“If you don’t want to tell me, at least come back with me and tell my father,” Grimmjow snorted. Why, so he could join as another member of Orphan Castle? <em>Hard pass.</em> Plus, this guy’s old man sounded like an idiot. He had a rule about interacting with idiots: don’t.</p>
<p><em>Then again,</em> he thought, glancing sideways at the man watching him, he’d already broken that rule a couple times.</p>
<p>Thinking to his little shack nestled near the center of the forest, he hesitated only slightly at the offer. Trees certainly weren’t ones for conversation, not that he actually talked to them, or <em>anyone</em> for the matter. He wasn’t a complete madman. If he wanted a companion that badly, he’d tame one of those damned wolves or steal a horse that didn’t eat all his fruit.</p>
<p>“I won’t be caught dead in any kingdom, especially one run by a fool,” he said with more bite than he felt. Like hell he’d take up an offer like that. He wasn’t that desperate, even if the beds were probably better. And the food. <em>And the entertainment,</em> he thought glancing at the ginger. Grimmjow noticed some obvious muscle definition, with how the idiot’s wet shirt clung to him like he painted it on this morning.</p>
<p>Why did he even care what Grimmjow had to say, anyway? It’s not like he was going to show him his ruined number, tattooed on his back like a scarlet letter, at least not on purpose. He barely had any self-preservation as it was, doing something like that was suicidal. Especially with the brat swinging around his sword like a damn meat cleaver earlier. It was pretty obvious the kid had never killed anything before, but that didn’t mean he was opposed to trying, and right now, he couldn’t afford to push his luck. He watched as the ginger sighed, and stood, legs barely wobbly.</p>
<p>“Where t’hell you think yer going?”</p>
<p>“Keep your secrets. I’m going home.” Grimmjow rolled his eyes. <em>Dramatic much?</em> Was the guy really gonna give up that easily? Floundered in the forest for god knows how long in a panic induced haze, pelted by rain and that was it? Spilling his guts to a total stranger and eating half of a perfectly fine fish, he was just gonna let everything go with that half-assed attempt? <em>What a letdown.</em></p>
<p>As ridiculous as the situation was, a twinge of disappointment crawled through his mind as he watched the kid grab his sword and leave, veering to the right of the cave mouth and disappearing in the darkness outside. <em>You’re welcome you ungrateful bastard. </em>He could’ve just left the stupid sword outside to rust, but he brought it back with the kid, slug across his back like a lumpy, misshapen pack full of rocks.</p>
<p>Glancing down at his wrist, the tattoo now a waxing crescent. He was still worn-out from the last few days, and he watched as the ginger idiot, one he had saved against his better judgement, <em>twice,</em> start off by <em>immediately</em> turning the wrong direction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grimmjow rubbed his temples slowly, and rolled his eyes. <em>I dunno what the hell else I was expectin’. </em>It wasn’t like anything else that involved the prince had gone even remotely smooth. If he had just went left first, that would’ve saved a hell of a lot of trouble, with his stupid horse tied up, munching on whatever he could find. <em>Horse seemed pissed though,</em> as much as one could be, anyway. Grimmjow snorted. <em>Guess you can’t have looks and brains.</em>  </p>
<p>He grabbed the other fish from the fire and tore into it. Why should he care, anyway? Those morons over in the Seireitei never did shit for him, why start wanting anything now? Different kingdom, same beggars; they were all the same. <em>An’ I ain’t lookin’ for handouts.</em></p>
<p>His pack was the only people he ever cared about, and look where that got him—living in a shack in the woods, hunting a group of killers, and babysitting a directionless member of royalty. <em>Royal dumbass, maybe.</em></p>
<p>Chewing the meat, a couple tiny bones poked the inside of his cheek; it was dry as hell, left too long by the fire. <em>Damnit, not again.</em> If he had to eat one more saltless dry-ass fish, he was gonna enchant it and fight its corpse—deserved it too, for being so damn disgusting. At least whenever he was out of his mind, he didn’t taste what he was actually eating—everything always a blurred memory.</p>
<p><em>Then again, if I go, I might get a better change to avenge them,</em> he thought, remembering his comrades. They were the only family he’d ever had, the only people who’d cared about him...what Aizen did to Shawlong, Nakeem, Edrad…his pack. For what he did….This may be the best chance he’d had in years.</p>
<p>“Espada, eh….” He sighed, the number on his back, the scars through it sizzling with renewed energy. Shaking the last wetness from his clothing, he stood, passed his hands over his bracers, feeling the enchantment. Muttering a few words of the incantation, he strengthened it. He could never use magic very well before he’d met Aizen, and if that’s the only thing he’d be grateful for afterwards, that would still be too much. Palm covering the enchantment, he felt it start to scorch his hand, and lifted it up to his face. Blisters had started to form in the center most part of his palm between the lines, and he drug his tongue over it forcing what little healing magic he could use into his hand. Red healing magic—a low-level type didn’t require an incantation, and a small surface area required very little magic. Underneath the wet muscle sliding around, he could feel them shrink and recede into his skin.</p>
<p>Flexing his hand once for good measure, he wiped it off on his bandaged chest, careful to avoid the cut area. The little indent the kid had given him a while ago had stopped bleeding…again. It had been a bitch to wrap, and he wasn’t about to do it again. Walking out of the entrance of the cave, he heard howling, but it sounded off. Fuzzy and distorted. He crinkled up his nose, almost smelling the shit oozing out of their modified holes. <em>Szayel and his damn experiments….</em> The <em>one</em> time he wasn’t careful, it had ended with these stupid wolves. What was his aim, anyway? Was he trying to find him, since he knew he was alive?  </p>
<p>Horse was pawing at the ground as he turned the left, and he went to untie it from the makeshift lead he’d made. <em>More of a noose, really.</em> Getting on without a saddle was whatever, but this time the punk hadn’t even bothered with a halter or reigns, which made the prissy creature even more difficult. <em>Thanks a lot you little shithead,</em> he cursed at the ginger, pulling off the lead and letting the horse do whatever.</p>
<p>He walked in the direction the kid did, hoping he could find the sorry bastard before the wolves got to him first. The horse followed behind, silent hooves and heavy breaths, blowing the back of his head. Grimmjow rolled his eyes at the beast, following him like a lost dog—he wondered if it did the same with the prince. Somehow he doubted it. Looking at the moon through the trees, he signed, and hoped the rest of the night would go smoothly.</p>
<p>
  <em>If he asks, I’m just bored as hell. That’s all. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>….</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grimmjow couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That fucker had an enchantment on his sword, and he didn’t even bother using it on him in their scuffle earlier. He was honestly offended. <em>Why, not good enough for you, brat,</em> he though with a snarl. Watching as he swung again, cutting one of the modified wolves in half, he snorted and looked over to the horse standing behind a giant rock, like it was waiting for a good entrance, melodramatic bastard.</p>
<p>Big brute was standing still patiently, ears pricked upwards, listening carefully to slicing and cracking. The ginger yelled a couple times, and the horse turned its head towards Grimmjow, as if to say <em>see what I have to put up with?</em> Grimmjow nodded in agreement, he did seem like a handful. Prince was completely oblivious to him though, leaning against a tree a distance away where he stopped, while the horse had trotted a bit ahead to hide itself behind the rock jutting out of the earth like the top of a mountain.</p>
<p>But he had to admit, the kid had good enough moves; it was obvious he was trained well. <em>Tch. You’d win an honest fight, if those existed.</em> Thinking on the enchantment on the kids blade, he figured it was some kind of gathering and dispersion technique, but it looked like it used internal energy, rather than the external kind he tended to use. <em>He’s gotta have a hell of a lot of energy to swing that thing.</em></p>
<p>Grimmjow preferred the external kind so he could steal momentum and give it back tenfold, combined with his own strength, and he wouldn’t be nearly as tired afterwards. Not that he hadn’t used internal based attacks, they were hell of a lot more powerful, <em>but useless if I can’t stand after three swings.</em> The enchantments on his bracers fizzled when he realized the fight was over, the last three beasts running for the hills. Horse jolted at the noise, but stayed otherwise still, head turned still towards Grimmjow, as he began to walk forward slowly, closer to the horse’s stupid ‘hiding’ spot. Now was a good a time as any.</p>
<p>“Holes don’t normally leak, that freak must’ve got to them.” The kid turned around, looking him over as he leaned against the rock. Grimmjow tried for a smug look. <em>Yeah, I’ll give a little, punk, but I want something in return.</em></p>
<p>“You’ve met him. Pink hair. Name is Szayel. Espada.” He watched as the prince’s eyes widened, grip on his weird-ass sword increased. There was a tiny twitch in his other hand, like he wasn’t sure if he should face him as a person or as a warrior.</p>
<p>“That’s one hellova blade ya got there,” he added, not pausing to let the ginger dwell on the previous admission for too long. It’d shrivel up his brain, by the looks of it. He already looked like he was running on about three braincells; he’d bet money two of them were duds.</p>
<p>“Were you just going to let them eat me?” Ginger was frowning. <em>That’s what he was worried about?</em></p>
<p>Grimmjow grinned, fangs visible, even in the faint moonlight.</p>
<p>“If you were weak enough to get eaten by them, pretty much.”</p>
<p>Kid didn’t look happy about that little tid-bit, but <em>hey, you asked, dipshit. </em></p>
<p>“What do you want now?” Grimmjow suppressed a sigh—wasn’t it obvious? Then again, he looked like he was on the verge of collapsing into a boneless heap on the ground, critical thinking skills be damned. <em>That’s what you get for using internal magic to fuel your enchantment, you moron.</em></p>
<p>“Are you going to tell me about the espada?” He finally sheathed his sword, after a couple minutes of internal deliberation. Grimmjow looked behind the boulder to the horse, who was still standing there, waiting politely for a lull in the conversation, apparently. That or taking a shit. One of the two.</p>
<p>“Killed my pack,” Grimmjow finally said after a beat of silence. He rubbed the scar on his face once more for good measure. At least he figured the ginger understood, by the way he turned, like an almost apology. He rolled his eyes; he wasn’t looing for any pity, and certainly not from some prince with some weird as hell guilt complex. Whatever, there was time to figure that out later, if he had his way.</p>
<p>“Grimmjow,” Grimmjow said with a nod. The way he figured, they should get on decent terms, especially since they’d be in pretty close quarters on the way back. He wasn’t leading the damn horse all the way to the castle when he could easily fit them both on his back. <em>Well, maybe not easily, but they would fit, one way or another. </em></p>
<p>What?” He could’ve laughed at the stupid look on the kids face, mouth hanging open like he was trying to catch flies.</p>
<p>“My name, you shithead. It’s Grimmjow.” The kid composed himself quickly, scowl on his face.</p>
<p>“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said after a beat. Grimmojw didn’t bother to tell him he had known his name all along. He was well within hearing range when Szayel had said it a few days ago. He looked at the kid, waiting for the title and all that shit, surprised when it didn’t come.</p>
<p>What now?”</p>
<p>“What not gonna give me the whole spiel, crowned prince of fucktown and blah blah—”</p>
<p>“Grimmjow,” Kurosaki said, interrupting him. He liked the way he said his name. <em>How old is this brat, anyway? I ain’t about to have wet dreams to a fuckin’ teenager. </em>He looked pretty young, but age was something he was pretty poor at guessing. <em>Fuck Aizen and his glowing orb of misery.</em></p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“You’re an ass.” He smirked at the ki—Ichigo. <em>Nah, he’s more of a last name kinda guy</em>.</p>
<p>“Well, <em>Ku ro sa ki</em>,” he said, leaning against the giant bolder hiding his stupid horse, who was, by the way, still the most dramatic shit he’d ever come across. Kurosaki leveled a look on him. “if ya wanna get back to yer little castle, you’ll be goin’ that way ‘til hell freezes over.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” he asked, rolling his eyes, not bothering to move, instead palming the pommel on his weird-ass sword, thumb rubbing over the silk wrappings.</p>
<p>“You’re goin’ the wrong way, dipshit.”</p>
<p>He chuckled as Kurosaki’s face went red, and clicked his tongue, signaling the horse himself. <em>Let’s get this shit over with. I wanna raid the royal kitchen and go the fuck to sleep.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>…..</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kurosaki’s hands tightened around his waist as he pressed the horse faster. <em>Damn this is a good horse.</em> He’d have to see who this horse-talker-trainer was; he was obviously good at what he did. Even in the darkness, horse sliding effortlessly across the earth, red sparks flashing as hooves hit the ground, he could see pretty well, and ducked under a low hanging branch. Kurosaki’s grip tightened around his middle, pressing against the wound, making him hiss. He cursed, as Grimmjow heard a thunk, and laughed loudly.</p>
<p>“Damnit, <em>warn me next time you fucker!”</em> Grimmjow pinched a hand that was around him, urging him to ease up on his hold or he’d be thrown off on purpose.</p>
<p>“What, can’t take a hit?” he said, arms around him relaxing only slightly. He felt warm breath tickle the back of his neck as the ginger snorted in reply, sending an odd tingle down his spine. He was acutely aware of how close the man was behind him, thighs pressed close to the back of his own, legs hanging on either side of the beast. Both of their bodies were moving in sync, making him think of…other activities.</p>
<p>“<em>Che. </em>Getting my eye poked out by a branch would be embarrassing more than anything. ‘Hime wouldn’t help me until I told her the whole story.” Grimmjow briefly tried to remember which one that was…the sad cook girl maybe? He didn’t really care, he just wanted Kurosaki to sit closer, and grunted.</p>
<p>“You could always sit in front.”</p>
<p>“And dangle over your legs like some poor defenseless maiden? Pass. That would be even more embarrassing.” Ichigo said, and Grimmjow chuckled to himself, not bothering to tell the ginger he wouldn’t need to sit sidesaddle.</p>
<p>Grimmjow was taking the way he had a week prior. This time of night, few people would be up and around, especially after the rain. Plus the castle wasn’t guarded all that well to begin with. Slowing the horse to a trot, he saw the castle spire’s coming into view in the darkness. They were close.</p>
<p>“Castle’s coming up. Slow down.” <em>I already did that you dumbass, I have eyes. </em>Striding out of the treeline, through a crumbled part in the outermost wall, on the east side of the castle, Grimmjow started to lead the horse close to the castle walls. Clouds had moved in front of the moon, leaving them in near darkness, but the horse knew where he was going by this point. <em>Isn’t he even a little curious how he got back last time?</em> <em>I ain’t no damn taxi.</em></p>
<p>“Stop,” Kurosaki said, pulling on his cloak slightly.</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“I can’t just ride into the courtyard you leading, are you nuts? Uryu’d shoot you off before either of us got a word in edgewise.” Grimmjow frowned, but he supposed the kid had a point. It would be pointless to argue over that anyway. Slipping his left leg around, he slid off the horse quietly, and walked over to the wall, completely shrouded in darkness.</p>
<p>“There’s a door on this side somewhere. Go in there and I’ll come find you. It may take a while, but I’ll get there as quickly as I can,” the man said, scooting up on the horse and edging him on. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. <em>Guess that means no raiding for food, then.</em></p>
<p>“Tch, <em>fine.</em>”</p>
<p>He followed from a distance as Kurosaki kept going, until he came to a wall connecting to the castle. Following the bend, he watched as he went through the doorless gate, slowing the horse to a slow walk. <em>What shitty security.</em> Even from this distance, he could hear bickering on the other side. A nasally, irritating voice, and another, calmer one. He heard the distinct thud of feet hitting the ground, <em>kid must’ve dismounted.</em> Grimmjow turned around and began to follow the eastern wall, fingers lacing against the stone wall, searching for this mystical door the ginger had mentioned earlier.</p>
<p>“Hey guys sorry I’m—<em>whoa what the hell man?” </em>Grimmjow snorted as the man’s voice raised at least an octave.</p>
<p>“Ichigo what the hell are you doing this for again?! I could’ve shot your eye out!” the nose-voice yelled out. <em>Branch or arrow, take you pick,</em> Grimmjow snorted<em>.</em> He stopped, waiting to hear how the exchange would play out.</p>
<p>“Ichigo, is everything okay?” the calm voice said. <em>Animal-man, maybe?</em></p>
<p>“I appreciate your concern, Uryu.” he heard the ginger reply, irritation plain as day. “And yeah, I’m alright; is my father around?”</p>
<p>“Where the hell else would he be? He stays here, unlike <em>somebody</em>.” <em>Talk about a petty little bitch.</em> Thunder rolled off in the distance somewhere, signaling more rain to come. Grimmjow sighed, he hated the rain.</p>
<p>“Oh go fuck yourself, Uryu.”</p>
<p>“Uryu, please,” the low, steady voice said. <em>Tch, he gets plenty a’practice on people.</em></p>
<p>“Ichigo—”</p>
<p>“Uryu. Please. It’s about my Mom.” Silence then. <em>Well, that seemed to shut him up, at least. </em>He faintly heard some one puttering around, shuffling on the ground or something. The cold from the stone was leaking into his body from his back pressed on it. <em>What a bad time to not be wearing a shirt.</em> The cut on his chest had begun to throb, sending tendrils of dull pain through his body, and he pulled the cloak closer to himself, trying to keep what little warmth he felt closer.</p>
<p>“We’re not going in the lower east door, right? You know, <em>around the wall?</em>”  </p>
<p><em>Real subtle, dumbass,</em> Grimmjow thought rolling his eyes, and started to walk back the way he came, keeping a hand onto the wall as the smooth stone rolled across his fingers.</p>
<p>“What the hell is wrong with you? Did you fall off Zangetsu again?” the nasally one said without an ounce of humor. <em>Again? Does he do that often?</em> Grimmjow decided he would definitely be asking about that later.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a scratch on your forehead,” the other one said. He heard Kurosaki groan. Grimmjow snorted<em>.</em> He started in the other direction as the voices got fainter, meandering his way towards the door he hoped was on this side.</p>
<p><em>This is the East side, right?</em> Looking up at the sky, clouds had rolled in front of the moon, not even a sliver of light made it through the thick cover of darkness. He shrugged; <em>let’s hope so.</em> He really didn’t want to get caught in the rain…again. Lightening flashed in the sky, and he caught sighed of an indent in the stone ahead of him.</p>
<p>After sloshing around on the still muddy ground, his fingers grazed over wood and an iron handle. <em>Fuckin’ finally.</em> Grabbing the handle, he tried to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge, as the sky let loose a torrent, pouring onto the ground in fat, cold drops.</p>
<p>“Oh just fuckin’ great,” he muttered, yanking on the door some more, as rain pelted his back, drenching his bandages and his skin. He shivered slightly at the cold drops and cursed, leaning against the door with all his weight before squeezing the handle once more.</p>
<p>He tumbled forward before he knew what was happening, body slapping against the cold stone floor in a wet heap. He shook his head, wetness flying from it. <em>Damn it all.</em> He was usually more sure-footed than that. Exhaustion must be catching up to him. The room was fairly dim, a couple torches on either side of the kitchen illuminating the stone and wood.</p>
<p>A cough caught his attention as he stood on stiff legs, water dripping from his body like a half-drowned cat, and he swung around, putting him face to face with a woman. Two women, actually. One was brandishing a frying pan like a broadsword, while the other held a confused smile on her face like a jewel around her neck, staring at the bandages on his chest with furrowed brows.</p>
<p>
  <em>Damnit all to hell and back. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part, or a gap. </p>
<p>I really enjoy writing from Grimmjow's perspective! I hope to have the next chapter up this weekend! :) Hope you enjoy, and as always, comments and kudo's are appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Hiraeth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Grimmjow stumbles into quite the situation, stuck between an overly compassionate woman with irritating orange hair, and a black-haired sass-bucket. Why did he always get the weird ones? He was hoping he could eat and snoop around in peace, not have his every move watched by two annoying women.<br/>Meanwhile, Ichigo finds his father in his study and confronts him. What did he know? Why didn't he tell him the truth, and who are the espada?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is close to double the length of the usual (oh no, how awful, lol sorry not sorry). Enjoy! There's a bit of jumping around, so I hope it isn't too confusing. Let me know if it is, and I'll see what I can do! :)<br/>**Also I went back and edited a little bit of this because what is plot even</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, hello um…who are you?” the orange haired woman said, eyes not leaving the bandages on his chest as Grimmjow stood to his full height. The black-haired woman was right beside her, pan bigger than her head, raised to his face.</p><p>“What the fuck do you think you’re doing down here?” the other woman asked, skillet poised to attack.</p><p> Grimmjow fought the urge to roll his eyes at the women. One had long orange hair, hanging loose just to the middle of her torso and just as obnoxious a color as Kurosaki. The other woman was a little tamer by comparison, as far as hair was concerned, anyway, with shoulder-length glossy black hair.  </p><p><em>Ah fuck.</em> He looked between the two women and crossed his arms, debating on what to say. Kurosaki had let him believe it would be empty, now what was he supposed to do? Talking people down wasn’t exactly his specialty, if fact, he usually preferred to goad into confrontation, rather than away from it. The number on his back burned underneath the shitty bandage job he’d done. Now he was wet, cold, and twice as uncomfortable as he thought he’d be. <em>I guess I should start with my name?</em></p><p>“Uh…Grimmjow.” He cursed himself for sounding so awkward. He was a rugged outdoorsman, thrived in unknown and dangerous situations. Hell, he had the wolves running from him when they saw him now, so why did he feel so foolish, the prickling embarrassment rising on his face slightly. Neither of them posed any real threat to him—their arms about as big the puny saplings dying from lack of light in the forest, so why was he so uncomfortable? Was it the boobs? The woman in front had damn melons strapped to her chest, just looking at her made his back hurt. The other looked flat as the pan she was waving around. Orange took a step closer to him, eyes wide. He refused to budge. Black put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder to stop her.</p><p>“You’re injured,” she said, holding out a hand over the bloodiest part of the bandage, where the ginger idiot had stabbed him with his fingers not two hours ago.</p><p>“Yep.” <em>Oh good, her eyes work,</em> he thought sardonically.</p><p>“’Hime, no.”</p><p>“But he’s hurt!”</p><p>“He’s an <em>intruder </em>first<em>.” Gotta point there.</em> Maybe he should tell them their stupid prince told him were the door was. Also, they should lock the door so intruders like him couldn’t pull the push door and fall in and eat all the…he looked around, bread. At least four medium sized baskets were filled with different misshapen breads on the counter behind the women.  <em>How much bread could a person need, exactly?</em> He smelled something else cooking as well, eyes flicking to the large oven against far wall. Two dry-ass fish didn’t even begin to cover his hunger.</p><p>“Tell me what happened.” Orange demanded, locking her big gray eyes on his finally, tearing her gaze away from his chest. Black hair sighed, but lowered the pan slightly, shaking her head.</p><p>“Try anything funny, and I’ll flay and cook you alive,” she hissed, leveling a glare on him.</p><p>“Tch,” Grimmjow rolled his eyes and looked around, crinkling his nose at something. He smelled…meat? What time was it? They were still cooking or did they just do whatever the hell they wanted whenever the hell they wanted to? What kind of castle was this? Against his will, his stomach grumbled lowly, and he noticeably tensed. <em>You traitor,</em> he cursed to his insides, eyebrow twitching. Orange laughed lightly.</p><p>“Why don’t you sit on that table over there,” she instructed, pointing to a narrow wooden table that was warped in the middle, like it was used to holding up the weight of people instead of food. “I may be able to help.” </p><p><em>Help? How could she possibly help me, </em>he thought, but walked slowly over to the table regardless. <em>And I don’t want any help from some puny chick. </em>Black hair—that one must be the runaway tactician…what was one of the names? Taki? Tatsu? Something like that?—moved back over to the stove, a large black pot sitting on top of it, and began to stir it. She was still glaring at him. Orange—‘Hime, the other woman said—followed behind him, and waited as he got situated on the table.</p><p>“I know a little healing magic. Mr. Urahara said I had a knack for it.” Grimmjow didn’t bother asking just who in the hell Urahara was; he’d find out sooner than later, if his current record of things going to shit was anything to go by. He sat on the table and heard it groan against his weight and watched as the woman held her hands up to his chest, index fingers and thumbs touching in a triangle formation.</p><p>“O maiden of rice fields, a fruitful harvest,” the woman began, as a small white light sparked to life in the space between her hands. Grimmjow’s eyes widened slightly at the color, running a tongue over sharp teeth in the process. <em>This ain’t just some healing magic,</em> he thought, impressed. “The wheat turns gently in the wind.” The white light swirled in between her hands before twisting around his torso, engulfing him in warm, white light.</p><p>“Bakudo fifty-nine, Keikatsu,” she finished as she slipped her eyes closed, eyebrows furrowing together to concentrate. Grimmjow felt his wounds closing underneath the bandages, looking down, even the blood was vanishing. <em>This is white healing magic.</em> He watched the light swirl around him for a moment, as it licked against bandages and skin. Even the dirt on his clothes was disappearing. <em>Damn, this is useful.</em></p><p>“So…Grimmjow,” black hair said, watching ‘Hime heal him with a pointed gaze, pan replaced by a large wooden spoon. “Is it your hobby to break and enter, or do you actually have a purpose here?” <em>At least she doesn’t beat around the bush. </em> </p><p>He frowned at a question, and didn’t answer right away, briefly wondering when the ginger would come and get him. He didn’t particularly want to stay locked in the kitchens with two nosey women, especially since women weren’t really his…thing. <em>Oh fuck it.</em> He might as well have fun with it, since he anticipated the prince would be a while. Kid seemed like a prude—he could work with that angle, maybe ruin his reputation a little.</p><p>“Ichigo told me to come in this way.” he said, making a point to look Tat-whatever her name was directly in her eyes, arching an eyebrow her way, smirk on his face. First name basis seemed like it would have a little more impact, and he heard the healer gasp slightly. It wasn’t a lie, but he knew how it sounded, which to say, was exactly how he wanted it. <em>That’s for sticking your fingers in my wound, you shit,</em> he thought, glowering internally. If nothing else, the implication would be entertaining. He watched as the women gaped at each other, faces equally red, exactly the reaction he was going for. Now the kid could be just as uncomfortable as he was.</p><p>“Leave a scar,” he said suddenly, jolting the healer from her thoughts, her attention turning back to him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Leave a scar. It’s…how we met,” again, not a complete lie. He grinned again, showing off a row of sharp, almost feral looking, teeth. ‘Hime swallowed hard, a nervous smile on her face, before composing herself. He didn’t break eye contact from her either. She looked like she was thinking, eyes shifting up and to the right, breaking the gaze.</p><p>“I see…well…then I’m…” she stopped, searching for the right words, “I’m glad he’s found someone!” she said, nodding her head like she made up her mind.</p><p><em>What the fuck? “</em>Maybe now his father will quit bugging him about it, then!” she smiled at him, and patted his knee once, in what he guessed was, a reassuring matter. Why would he need reassurance? What was she talking about? And why wasn’t she concerned for her prince? She didn’t even know him! He could be some feral washed-up assassin with a revenge policy for all she knew. <em>Wait, that’s exactly what I am.</em></p><p>“What matter?” Grimmjow asked, looking between the women again. Tat-whatever was dipping something amazing smelling into three wooden bowls. He hoped there was meat in it. The white light around his body faded as he ran a hand along his chest. No pain, good sign. He tugged a bandage away from his skin, and grinned when he saw the faint scar, newly pink along his otherwise paled flesh.</p><p>“Courting,” black hair said, concentrating on what she was doing. She dribbled some brown liquidy-soup stuff on the wooden counter-top, and he frowned. “Isn’t that why you’re sneaking into the kitchens late at night? A late-night rendezvous with the prince?” She wiped up the spill with a rag, mischievous smirk on her face. <em>That’s a fancy way of saying fucking, right?</em></p><p>“Uh…yeah. Sure.” News to him, but he could work with that. Looks like his lie held some merit from their side.<em> How interesting, </em>he thought, a corner upturning on his mouth slightly. He could <em>definitely </em>work with that.</p><p>Black hair slid a bowl across the counter behind her, towards orange, along with a small wooden spoon, who took it and held it out to Grimmjow.</p><p>“How long as this been going on,” black said quietly, leaning over to ‘Hime across the opposite table. She wiggled her fingers against the side of the bowl outstretched to him. He saw carrots, potatoes and some kind of chunked up meat, and sucked on his bottom lip. ‘Hime shrugged at the other girl’s question.</p><p>“Dunno, this is the first time I’ve seen Mr. Grimmjow,” Orange answered her. His eye twitched.</p><p>“Drop the mister, shit,” he quipped. “I ain’t some old geezer.”</p><p>“You seem like his type,” black said snorting and smiling faintly, starting at him as he looked at the bowl in Hime’s hands. He’d need like three of these to even begin to satisfy his appetite.</p><p>“Do I now?” he asked, taking the bowl from her and smelling it. He could smell the vegetables and cooked meat, simmered in a dark, thick gravy, and his mouth watered. Black walked around the counter with a bowl in each hand, and shoved one in the other woman’s hands. Orange immediately took a huge spoonful into her mouth and started to suck in air, open-mouthed while fanning her face.</p><p>“Hot hot hot!!” she squealed, dropping the bowl on the table with a loud <em>clack</em>, using both hands to fan herself as tears prickled the corners of her eyes.</p><p>“Of course, it is! You just saw me spoon it out you dummy!” Tat-whatever said, laughing at the other woman as she went over to a wooden bucket on the other side of the room and ladled out liquid into a ceramic cup. Grimmjow looked to orange and then back to his own bowl, warming his hands nicely. It smelled awfully good, and it apparently wasn’t poisoned.</p><p>“It’s just stew. And don’t worry. I made it, not her,” the black-haired woman said, pointing to Hime who had swallowed, finally, and took the cup being offered to her. Orange made a pouty face and tried to slap the other woman’s shoulder, spilling out some of the water inside of the cup in the process. Grimmjow looked down into the stew one more time and shrugged. There were worse ways of dying, he figured, as he took a spoonful.</p><p>“Tatsuki, I’m not that bad!”</p><p>“’Hime, I love you, but you’re terrible.” <em>Holy shit this is good</em>, he thought, shoveling in another spoonful, heat be damned. This beat a sad dry fish any damned day.  </p><p>“I’m not that bad,” she whined.</p><p>“Orihime, you tried to feed me a cheese and herb stuffed fish with pickled radishes and a chocolate drizzle, like…two hours ago.” Grimmjow tried not to gag. <em>Fuck it sounds like she was trying to kill you, not feed you.</em> He’d rather eat an entire arrow, from tip to nock.</p><p>“Uryu eats what I cook!”</p><p>“Honey, he’d eat a fresh cow pie if you’d ask.”</p><p>“…he would? Why?”</p><p> Black hair—<em>Tatsuki</em>—rolled her eyes and smiled softly at Orihime.</p><p>“Oh Orihime, you’re so oblivious it hurts. He’s got it bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow couldn’t believe the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Here he was, in the lower kitchens, eating stew made by a stranger after being healed by another, different stranger, listening to <em>girl-talk</em> of all things.</p><p>The weirdest part of it all, he figured, was that he didn’t mind it after a while. They weren’t ignoring him, his presence was very much evident in the room, but they just continued as if…they didn’t mind him being there. That, and orange seemed excited by the prospect. He shoveled in another mouthful, getting as much meat on the small spoon as he could. Briefly, he thought about just dropping it and tipping it back directly into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Oooo Tatsuki, should I say something to him? What should I say?”</p><p>“Just act natural, Orihime,” Tatsuki said, patting her shoulder. Grimmjow snorted, and both sets of eyes turned to him, and swallowed his mouthful.</p><p>“If this is your normal,” Grimmjow said, spooning another mouth full of stew, and shrugging, “he probably knew like three years ago.” A piece of meat fell out of his mouth onto the table, and he barely looked at it before he popped it back into his mouth. <em>Ain’t no way I’m wasting any of this.</em></p><p>The girl went red and covered her face. The other woman—Tatsuki—glared at him, but didn’t say anything, instead twirling the spoon between her fingers like she was going to hit him with it. Grimmjow glared back as he finished the rest of the stew, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p> He heard a door open slowly behind him, and black hair went wide eyed. She opened her mouth to say something, as he felt something sharp at the back of his neck.</p><p>“Orihime, why didn’t you scream or yell or <em>something?”</em> Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, and shifted to look behind him slightly, arrow poking his neck even harder, but yet to break skin. <em>That’s not Kurosaki. </em>He recognized that voice as one outside earlier.</p><p> </p><p> <em>Uryu. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Slowly, the arrow left his neck, as the man stepped around, well within Grimmjow’s view. He was wearing a lot of white, a weird looking bow in his hands. It was almost glowing in the glow of the torchlight. <em>Another enchanted item? An’ how the hell does he keep all that white clean?</em></p><p>“Why would I do that?” she cocked her head to the side, looking directly at the archer. <em>This chick has zero self-preservation skills,</em> he thought, setting his empty bowl down beside him and leaning on his knees. Archer didn’t look like much, one good punch and he’d be out cold, probably. He’d fought worse odds than two chicks and a puny guy whose hobby was probably laundering clothes. By the looks of it, he’d just need to deal with the man.</p><p>“<em>Because there’s a stranger in the kitchen?”</em> he said incredulously, dropping his bow slightly as he gaped at Orihime. “And he’s <em>huge.</em>” Grimmjow smirked inwardly; hell yeah he was.</p><p>“Oh, but he said he was with Ichigo,” orange said shrugging her thin shoulders like it was nothing. Grimmjow was actually surprised at how it just rolled off her tongue, and she just kept eating and smiling; a tiny bit of the gravy mixture slipping out of her smiling mouth. <em>What the fuck is wrong with these people?</em></p><p>Glasses sputtered around for a minute before composing himself, minus his cherry red face. Completely forgetting about his weapon, the arrow dropped to the floor. </p><p>“He WHAT?” Grimmjow put a pinky in his ear to muffle the pitch of his voice. <em>God this guy is even more annoying up close.</em></p><p>“Hey, keep it down, Uryu, the whole castle will wake up.” Kurosaki said, swinging the door open and walking through, rubbing his eyes. Shoulders sagging, hair even more unruly, he looked from the sputtering archer to the women and his eyes finally settled on Grimmjow, who was still leaning against one hand, propped up by an elbow.</p><p><em>Looks like the little talk went well,</em> Grimmjow thought bitterly. Glasses turned between them quickly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.</p><p>“Ichigo who is this man—why is he with you? Where did you find him? When?” Grimmjow slid off the table and arched his back, hearing the cracking and popping as he readjusted himself. <em>God, I’m stiff.</em></p><p>“Are you gonna actually let me answer or are you just gonna keep asking questions?” Kurosaki, asked, crossing his arms and glaring. Uryu silenced himself and glared back, waiting for some kind of explanation. Honestly, Grimmjow was looking for one himself. This whole thing was seeming less and less worth it the more people he had to interact with. This was already more people he’d seen in…<em>what, couple years now?</em></p><p>“He’s…with me for right now,” Uryu’s mouth dropped open to say something, face turning red again. “Don’t read too much into it right now,” Kurosaki continued before he could say anything. “Look, I think everyone is exhausted, so I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” Uryu opened and shut his mouth a couple times, before finally deciding on something to say.</p><p>“Ichigo it’s incredibly indecent of you to walk around with another at such times.”</p><p>Kurosaki groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What like you’re probably going to walk with Orihime?” he shot back. Glasses snapped his mouth shut, and Grimmjow ran a tongue over his teeth, seeking any remain food stuffs stuck between his teeth. <em>That shut him up real quick.</em></p><p>“Look, it’s not what you think it is, but I really, really, don’t want to talk about it right now.”</p><p>Uryu sighed and held up his hands, defeated. Bending to pick up the arrow and place it in the quiver on his back, the lower limb of the bow resting on the floor.</p><p>“Fine. But expect me to check on you in the morning,” he turned to Grimmjow then, leveling himself against him and looking him directly in his eyes. “If something happens to Ichigo during the night, I’ll hunt you down and pierce your heart from the shadows. You’ll never see it coming.” Grimmjow snorted. <em>Least everyone’s got guts in this shitty castle, if nothing else. </em>He supposed he could respect that.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” Kurosaki said, gesturing his head towards the door.</p><p><em>Finally,</em> he thought as the other man led the way.</p><p><em>But where the hell am I gonna sleep? </em> </p><p> </p><p>---------------------------</p><p>Ichigo really hoped that Grimmjow had found the door before it started to rain, but he didn’t hold his breath. Nothing else was working out in his favor presently, as he stood in his fathers’ library…office…place, scowl set deep on his features.</p><p>“Your face will stick like that you know~~” Urahara said, waving his fan at him, the slight wind only adding to his irritation. Why was he even here? To break the tension in the room? He wasn’t doing a very good job. He minus well stick a bulbous red nose on his stupid face and slap his stupid wooden shoes around like the damn clown he was, for all Ichigo cared presently.</p><p>Ichigo sucked in a breath, not wanting to have this conversation now, or ever, but…he figured if he wanted answers, he’d have to start.</p><p>“You lied to me,” he said, starting at his father and crossing his arms, standing up straight. Isshin’s gaze never left his face, but Ichigo saw him flinch slightly at the words.</p><p>“I’d say <em>lying</em> is a rather harsh word—"</p><p>“I’ve watched my mother die in my dreams almost every night for years, and you never thought to tell me the truth. Sounds like lying to me,” Ichigo countered the shopkeeper, still locking eyes with his father. Urahara closed his fan and put it away in some hidden pocket, to be taken out when the mood was lighter. His father rubbed his face for a second before his hands dropped onto a pile of papers. Ichigo sucked in a breath to steady himself; he couldn’t afford to go and get ineloquently emotional—that wouldn’t do anyone any good. The candle on the corner of his father’s desk flickered in the light movement and breaths the man made. Torch scones had gone out a couple hours ago, so he must’ve been reading my candlelight like a hopeless romantic with a bad secret.</p><p>“Ichigo,” his father started, standing up from his seat, expression unreadable. “Ichigo it’s—"</p><p>“Don’t <em>Ichigo</em> me. Why the hell did you lie to me?” It was a fair question, he thought, as he crossed his arms defiantly across his chest, barely registering as his hand hit the pommel of his sword, knocking it against his hip lightly. The dimness of the room made expressions hard to read.</p><p>“It’s not what you think,” was all Isshin said as he slowly walked around the desk and leaned on the front, palms behind him like he was stabilizing himself.</p><p>“Like hell it isn’t! You were afraid to tell me the truth. And you let me find out for myself, like you do with everything.”</p><p>“I was trying to protect you.” <em>You didn’t deny any of that though,</em> Ichigo thought, bitterly, fists clenching at his sides, white knuckling into the fabric of his pants. How could he just stand there and…and—</p><p>“<em>You were trying to protect yourself,” </em>Ichigo hissed at the man, composure cracking slightly. He breathed through his nose and out his mouth, trying to contain his heart leaping inside his chest. <em>Stay calm. Anger won’t get you anywhere,</em> he told himself. Ichigo broke his gaze from his father, who looked more tired than he’d seen him in years and stared at the candle. Flame snapping and bouncing around on the wick made his eyes heavy. His exhaustion was finally starting to catch up to him, and the night wasn’t even close to being done.</p><p>Isshin rubbed his forehead with one hand, other curled around his torso, like he was trying to contain something inside him. Ichigo clenched his jaw. <em>This can’t be easy for him either,</em> he realized, biting his bottom lip. The candle flashed once in the room, plunging them into few brief seconds of silence, the window behind Isshin offering little but rain sounds and dark skies. Urahara lit it a moment later, faint yellow sparking from his hands; Ichigo looked towards him for a moment, but he didn’t meet his gaze. <em>He always knows more.</em></p><p>“Dad,” he said, turning back to him, voice barely cracking. <em>Damnit.</em> “Please.”</p><p>His father looked at him, really looked at him this time, and Ichigo could see the pain behind his darkened eyes. Isshin finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right,” he said at last. He shuffled a few things around behind him, and sat full on his desk, feet still planted on the floor for grounding while Ichigo waited for him to speak, hooking a finger into the candle-holder and cupping it in front of him with his other hand.</p><p>The seconds ticked by and stretched to minutes while Isshin passed a hand in front of the flame, making it grow and shrink, eyes glazing over, into a different time.  </p><p>“We think Kaien was killed by the Espada.” Ichigo felt his stomach drop at the mention of the name, his father’s brother, who he’d been told had been ambushed on the way back from a diplomatic meeting to a country to the far west, back before Karakura set into its isolationism.</p><p>“The Espada had been a problem for decades before the time of Kaien," Urahara said, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest. "Then, all went quite for quite a few years. We thought they had disbanded,” Isshin said continuing the thought, looking towards Urahara. He looked older in the dim light barely reaching him, on the other side of the room, both of them did. Most of his body was shrouded in darkness. Only the green of his haori, his light hair, and the wrinkling at the corner of his eyes was obvious in what little light stretched towards him.</p><p>"Until they killed him, anyway," Isshin's voice was tired. Ichigo felt guilt bubble up in his chest for his earlier anger, but at least he was getting some answers, even if they were to questions he hadn't asked yet. </p><p>“Never found a body though. Wolves probably got to him before we did; black night was new, ravenous bastards.” Isshin stopped and swallowed. To Ichigo, it didn’t look like he knew how to continue from that. <em>How could he, honestly.</em> </p><p>“He was carrying a fragment of the soul gem at the time of the attack,” Urahara said quietly, looking up at the high ceiling, scratching the scruffy stubble at his chin thoughtfully. Ichigo looked to him, his fingers bending and flexing in the dim light, casting a shadow over his chest in a weird, spider-like way. </p><p>“Soul gem?” Ichigo didn’t recognize the term. He knew the advisor was quite keen on experiments and inventing, but, like many other things, he knew nothing of it.</p><p>“Yes, the soul gem, or Hōgyoku, as I liked to call it, could enhance strength of particularly powerful souls,” he explained. “We now believe the Espada possess it his fragment. Or their leader, at least. It's probably why he was killed.” Ichigo still didn’t understand what exactly the gem did. <em>What the hell does enhancing soul strength do?</em> Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good it was in the hands of such a group.</p><p>“From what little intelligence we’ve been able to gather over the years, the Espada are an elite killing team. They’ve assassinated noble clan leaders of various kingdoms, foreign dignitaries, even the prince of the neighboring sovereignty, the Seireitei, and….” Isshin trailed off, eyes wandering from the floor to the rows of books on the opposite wall he couldn’t read in the dim light.</p><p>“My mother.” Ichigo finished. Isshin nodded and sighed, head now towards the ceiling, candle spilling wax down it’s long, pale side. Some dribbled onto Isshin’s finger, but he didn’t seem to notice.  </p><p>“Yes. Unfortunately, you found her before anyone else. It must’ve happened right before you got there.” Isshin sighed and hung his head, flame reflecting in his dark eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear anything.”</p><p>“But why tell me,” Ichigo swallowed, willing away the wetness prickling the corner of his eyes. It felt like he was mourning her all over again, grief heavy as boulders so suddenly. An empty doorway, never to be filled again.</p><p>“Why tell me she…she—”</p><p>“I meant to tell you the truth when you were older, and would understand more,” he said, not letting him finish, something Ichigo was silently thankful for, eyes tired and heavy. “But then I heard you and Ryūken’s boy. I said I’d do it another time. Then every time was another time. Time passing only made it harder.” Isshin met Ichigo’s eyes then, eyes warm, but sorrowful. Ichigo could feel his calm radiating to him and swallowed. <em>All these years…he’s been holding onto this for…</em></p><p>“I am sorry, my son. Most of your suffering is entirely by my faults and cowardice,” Isshin continued, pulling Ichigo out of his head. “I neither need nor expect your forgiveness.” He didn’t sound sad, Ichigo realized, just…resigned.</p><p>He rarely admitted wrong, because, as much as Ichigo hated to admit it, he was wrong very seldom. He wasn’t as angry as Ichigo thought he would be, barging into his chambers and demanding answers in the middle of the night to what had to be one of the most painful moments in his life. He seemed relieved rather, relieved and regretful.</p><p>They all watched as Isshin passed his hand by the flame once more, growing and shrinking the flickering light—a trick he and his sisters used to love until he nearly burned his stupid beard off. Ichigo focused on the memory, a happy time even in the midst of sorrow, remembering Karin’s little half smile, but wide watching eyes. Yuzu’s bubbling laughter, spilling out of her mouth like vanilla and honey.</p><p>“Why would you give your brother such a powerful gem, shouldn’t the King have something like that?” Ichigo asked, sick of the silence which had permeated throughout the room. Isshin snorted.</p><p>“The gem was too powerful to be kept in one piece," Urahara said. "And it was Kaien's idea to split it into three parts, divide it between your father, himself, and me, since I created it. Unfortunately, I could only ever split it in half."</p><p>"Why in the hell would you create something so powerful if you knew it could cause such turmoil?" Ichigo asked, looking at the man who's eyes were closed as he talked, as if reliving a painful memory.</p><p>"We weren't always the most intelligent in our youth, I'm afraid." Urahara looked at him then, the barest glimmer of regret in his gray eyes, almost black in the faded light of the candle. For an instant, Ichigo had a feeling he was much, much older than he actually looked, and the thought unnerved him, sending a single shiver down his back. </p><p>"Thought about making him King," his father said, breaking through the ominous silence in the room. Ichigo turned to him. </p><p>“I just wanted to live a normal, non-royal life. Marry the girl from the Seireitei I was enamored with. She once threw a fork at me so hard it got caught in the wall. I was going to speak to him about a possible abdication after he returned but….”</p><p><em>He never did,</em> Ichigo thought, finishing the sentence and looking away. <em>Wait a minute marry a girl from—</em></p><p>“Mom was from the Seireitei?” Ichigo asked. Isshin laughed.</p><p>“Sure was. Wasn’t from any noble family or anything. Just run of the mill peasant class though she was anything but. The Seireitei’s had a stick up it’s entire ass and then some,” Isshin sighed, frown set on his face.</p><p>“Still does, but maybe we can finally do something about it.” Ichigo gaped at the admission, he’d never known that about his mother either. He didn’t remember too much as it was; he was only a boy when she’d been…how much else was being kept from him, he wondered. He shook his head, shooing away thoughts of asking for more. <em>This is enough for now.</em> <em>Anymore would be too much. </em></p><p>
  <em>Wait a minute, what did he just say?</em>
</p><p>“We?” Ichigo said, snapping his head towards his old man. Isshin nodded, eyes sharp, piercing through Ichigo—this was Isshin, the King, he realized, not Isshin the father.</p><p>“I’ve done a lot wrong in my time, Ichigo, but maybe now it can be fixed. This mess is my fault, and even though I know I shouldn’t expect anything from you in this matter I—”</p><p>“This isn’t forgiveness,” Ichigo said, eyes just as sharp, gazing directly into his father’s dark eyes. “But if it means Karin and Yuzu will have a life of safety and peace, I’ll do whatever I can to protect them.”</p><p>Isshin nodded, a small, bittersweet smile on his face, King façade cracking.</p><p>“You’re definitely Masaki’s boy, through and through.”</p><p>There wasn’t much more to be said after that, Ichigo knew. It was as good of a time as any to leave. Heading for the door, and opening it, Ichigo looked back once at his father, still leaning against the desk, a hand running through short black hair, chest rising and falling deeply, candle now set back on the corner of the desk. He began to pick off the wax that had dried onto his hand.</p><p>“Thank you for telling me that much; I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.” And he shut the door, before his father could say anything more. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but he knew that was coming. He couldn’t really stay mad at the man. He was just trying to do what he thought was right, even if it had been all wrong in the end. <em>I guess we don’t always know, huh,</em> he thought, leaning against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>The hall was drenched in darkness at this point, torches all but extinquished; they’d be filled in the morning and relit soon enough, besides, he knew the castle like the back of his hand. He’d traveled in darkness more than the light it seemed.</p><p>Shaking his head, Ichigo started towards the lower kitchens. He needed to get Grimmjow before anyone found him, or <em>he</em> found anyone, which was much more worrisome. Ichigo ran his hands through his hair, spiking it up even more. He didn’t even bother to tell his father about the stranger he’d brought back with him, there was time for that later.</p><p><em>Wait, Karin and Yuzu.</em> Ichigo sighed deeply and turned a sharp right after the first flight of stairs hit the main level.</p><p>He knew he needed to get down to the kitchen soon, but if he didn’t say something to Karin and Yuzu, they’d skin him alive and feed him to Zangetsu. And he was such an ass he’d probably chow down, the bastard. Ichigo half ran, half walked to their quarters.</p><p>Castle was big enough for them to have their own room, but Yuzu being Yuzu, she hadn’t wanted to be separated for too long of a time. Karin didn’t seem to mind, so they ended up having side by side bedrooms instead of two different areas of the castle. <em>At least I can kill two birds with one stone.</em></p><p>Knocking on their door softly, he called out to them. “Karin? Yuzu? Are you awake—”</p><p>The door flew open without warning and Ichigo accidentally knocked once on Yuzu’s head.</p><p>“Sorry about tha—”</p><p>“Where did you go this time?!” she said, grabbing onto his sleeve and tugging, eyes big and lip pouting. Ichigo wanted to ruffle up her hair, but it looked like she’d been sleeping, it was already messed up on one side, her pink pajamas wrinkled. He sighed.</p><p>“I needed to get away. To think.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t absolute truth either. Ichigo felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach and he clenched his teeth.</p><p>“And you can’t do that here? We’ve got plenty of room.” Karin said, glaring at him and crossing her arms.</p><p>He laughed softly and offered a small smile to them, trying to hide his guilt behind lace. There was no way he could say anything to them about their mother. He’d sooner die; it was already painful enough for them as it was.</p><p>“Look, I just wanted to let you know that I’m back, like I promised I would.” Karin huffed, but her expression softened. She looked like she’d just woken up as well, hair out of her usual ponytail and tangled around her face. She was wearing the same ratty pajama’s as the last time, Ichigo guessed he’d need to light a fire under Uryu’s ass.</p><p>“Thank you, Ichi-nii,” Yuzu said, stepping forward to hug him. He returned it only a little awkwardly, patting her back in what he hoped was a passable affectionate gesture.</p><p>“I wanna let Orihime know I’m back too, so I’ll let you get some sleep.”</p><p>Karin yawned, and stretched her arms above her head, showing off the hole in the underarm of her shirt; it looked bigger, her ribs were slightly visible. Ichigo frowned.</p><p>“I think she’s down in the lower kitchens, Tatsuki got back like…three hours ago?”</p><p>“Oh, did she?” <em>Oh fucking shit.</em> “I’ll go see her too.” <em>And make sure she’s not murdering Grimmjow.</em></p><p>Great. Good. This was turning into a splendid night, he thought as he walked away from their door, leaving them to their sleeping. He couldn’t wait for it to be over. All he wanted was to clean himself up and had a good night’s rest. The rest could wait, as long as he wouldn’t have to bury a body by the time he got downstairs.</p><p>Ichigo stopped his descent.</p><p><em>Oh shit, where’s tall blue and grouchy gonna sleep?</em> Ichigo ran fingers through his hair once more and groaned, forcing his legs to continue moving down the staircase quietly. Sleeping in a random room was completely out of the question, who knew who was wandering where. The servant’s quarters were <em>definitely</em> off the table because Ichigo didn’t want him to be found out, and didn’t want the guy accidently murdering anyone. Or purposely, for that matter. He seemed one snap away from losing it every time he encountered him.</p><p> </p><p><em>So I guess that leaves…my room.</em> Heat rose to his face as Ichigo rolled his eyes, remembering how he could feel Grimmjow move underneath his arms while Zangetsu galloped. How warm his back was, his skin, despite being out in the cold, air whipping around their bodies, using Grimmjow as a windbreak. Ichigo swallowed, one of them could sleep on the floor, he guessed.</p><p>
  <em>The bed is big enough for both of us though…</em>
</p><p>Ichigo shook his head, trying to erase such thoughts. He was a <em>prince</em> damnit, he couldn’t just jump into bed with anyone. The exhaustion was just making him more nonchalant and…horny than he’d like. He’d get it out of his system with a hot shower…or maybe a cold one instead. He’d decide when he got in there.</p><p><em>It’s just sleeping though, what’s the harm,</em> his mind-voice countered. Ichigo stuffed a wadded-up cloth in the voices mouth to hopefully shut it up as the kitchen’s door came into view as he descended the last couple steps from the stairs.  </p><p>“He WHAT?” Ichigo heard, yelled from the other side of the door, palm planted flat as he swung it open, shaking his head at his archer. Briefly, he wondered how he would tell Uryu about the talk he just had with his father. He had basically lied to him, and the guilt, while realistically not his fault, still persisted in the corner of his mind.</p><p>“Hey, keep it down, Uryu, you’ll wake the whole castle will up,” he said looking around the room after he entered, door swinging closed behind him. Grimmjow was sitting on top of the wooden table, still shirtless, but it looked like Orihime had tended to him, since his bandages were clean. <em>That woman is an absolute saint. A bat-shit crazy saint. </em>Who else would patch up a complete stranger, especially one as feral looking as the wild-eyed blue haired man? No-one else he knew. Looking around the room, he was just glad to know the other man was still alive with Tatsuki standing protectively by the other woman.</p><p>“Ichigo who is this man—why is he with you? Where did you find him? When?” Ichigo wanted to cross his eyes at all the questions that idiot asked him. <em>Why is he with me? Why would he be with me? </em>Internally groaning, Grimmjow must’ve said something like that to get them to pester him. He’d shave his frowny little eyebrows in his sleep, the bastard.   </p><p>“Are you gonna actually let me answer or are you just gonna keep asking questions?” Ichigo said, effectively shutting up the archer. He wanted to bang his own head against the wall, and then Grimmjow’s for good measure. <em>Or maybe just him…</em> Ichigo clenched his jaw at the intrusive thought, and looked over to Tatsuki, who was leaning against the countertop, and smiled her way. She arched her eyebrow suggestively before offering a mischievous smile back and his own faltered. <em>I’m going to die.</em></p><p>“He’s…with me for right now,” he started, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing. Who cared, right? It was supposed to be his business, and his business was…the whole castles business unfortunately.</p><p>“Don’t read too much into it right now,” he added watching as the man’s mouth opened and shut a few times in succession.<em> Oh I’m gonna never hear the end of this if we don’t get out of here soon.</em></p><p>“Look, I think everyone is exhausted, so I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”</p><p>“Ichigo it’s incredibly indecent of you to walk around with another man at such times.” <em>Here we go,</em> Ichigo grumbled to himself. He glared at Uryu who was picking up the arrow he’d dropped earlier.</p><p>“What like you’re probably going to walk with Orihime?” Uryu’s face turned red, Orihime let out a squeal. “Look, it’s not what you think it is, but I really, really, don’t want to talk about it right now.” Uryu glared right back at Ichigo.</p><p>“Fine. But expect me to check on you in the morning,” he turned to Grimmjow then, glaring at him instead, a serious look on his face. “If something happens to Ichigo during the night, I’ll hunt you down and pierce your heart from the shadows. You’ll never see it coming.” Ichigo rubbed his face, why did everyone have to be so damn protective? <em>I am capable of taking care of myself, even if I’ve been a disaster the last week or so.</em> He turned around, motioning for Grimmjow to follow him.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” he said, walking out the door. He heard footsteps following him as they walked in silence up the stairs and to his chambers. He stopped once to light a candle and wedge it into a silver chamberstick, holding it out in front of him to light the way. He could walk back in his sleep blindfolded, but figured it would be polite to his…<em>guest.</em></p><p>Climbing up the wooden spiraled staircase, he heard the steps creak with added weight of a man who didn’t know which of the nosiest steps to avoid entirely. Glancing back once, he saw blue eyes darting around, as if looking for weak points. <em>How strange…</em> Though Ichigo supposed that just came with the territory of living in a creepy-ass forest for god knows how many years alone.</p><p>
  <em>I know he said the espada killed his pack, but…how would he know their names…or what they were up to. </em>
</p><p>Shaking those thoughts from his head, he figured that was a problem for later, if he didn’t get violently murdered sometime during the night. Left hand still holding the chamberstick, he rested his palm on the tip of his sword.</p><p><em>At least Chad was nice enough to take Zan back to the stables for me. I don’t think I could’ve done it myself right now, especially with that bastard horse. </em>He’d have to remember to feed him some sugar cubes as an apology either way, for lugging them both back. He wasn’t used to two people at the same time, especially since neither one of the men were small. <em>I mean, he’s used to me, but this troll is a different story,</em> he thought, glancing back once at Grimmjow, who was looking at the ceiling, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.</p><p>As they reached his quarters, and more specifically his bedchambers, Ichigo’s mind was still going over the espada talk, and his father’s words earlier.</p><p><em>I wish he’d told me sooner about Mom and his brother.</em> There wasn’t anything he could do, he knew, but at least the guilt would’ve been mostly taken care of, he figured. At least he’d talked to Karin and Yuzu, even if it was brief, afterwards. He could tell they were relieved when he kept his promise. Karin would’ve probably smothered him in his sleep if he’d pulled the same stunt as last time.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure four-eyes doesn’t have some kind of hard on for you instead? He seemed pretty concerned,” the voice behind him said. Ichigo choaked as he opened the door to his chambers with an unsteady hand, knocked off guard by the question. Dumbly, he stood there processing, crease in his brows and open mouthed.  </p><p>“Instead of what, exactly?”</p><p>Grimmjow snickered as he elbowed his way past Ichigo into the openness of his room. The large window, normally illuminating the entire room in pale moonlight only brought cold darkness, rain pelting the glass in a steady stream. Ichigo watched as he took in the room in the dim candlelight, eyes wider than normal, sharp features softening, if only slightly. He couldn’t blame him really; the room was probably bigger than his entire little shack. Ichigo felt a small twinge of embarrassment, it all seemed so unnecessary. What were the point of castles and all this excess space if there were people living in a place that could barely keep the weather out? Granted, Grimmjow looked like he’d rather live in the middle of a cave rather than with another person, even if it meant more hospitable housing.</p><p>Walking over to the bed, Ichigo observed as he pushed a hand into the plush of the soft bedding and wrinkled up his nose slightly, eyes glimmering in the light. <em>I wonder what that’s about. </em>After a minute of touching his bed, Grimmjow wandered over to the bookshelves built into the wall, filled with a menagerie of books, some in his native language, some in other’s Ichigo had studied over the years. Some in Spanish, a few in French, a couple Latin here and there. He stared at a couple books for a minute before immediately throwing open the doors of Ichigo’s wardrobe right next to the shelves and began a search for…he didn’t know. His deepest darkest secrets? Underwear perhaps? He didn’t seem like the kind to actually wear underwear on a regular basis, but whatever. It wasn’t his place to judge, so long as he didn’t like smelling them like some kind of freak.</p><p>After a tired while, Ichigo turned from him, setting the candle down on his bed side table, and headed towards the connected bathroom, figuring there was enough to keep the nosey bastard busy for a few minutes while he cleaned himself off.</p><p>“Look, I’m going to go shower really quick. Don’t leave the room.” Ichigo wasn’t entirely sure if Grimmjow even heard him, now back to thumbing through books lining the shelf on his wall, having pulled out most of his clothes out of the wardrobe, and pulling out a massive leather-bound tome. A spell book by the looks of it. One he’d never used, probably.   </p><p>“Okay, whatever,” Ichigo muttered to himself, seeing as how everyone was apparently going to ignore him, and opened the door to the bathroom. Striking a match against the stone he lit the two torches on either side of the room, illuminating it in a warm yellow glow. He made quick work of peeling off his clothes after that—they were barely wet anymore, but the continued dampness would lead to sickness, and that was something he’d really rather avoid. Throwing off his boots by the door, socks tossed on top, he undid his leather belt with his sword still attached to his hip. Setting it on top of the vanity gently, he slid off his tunic and then his undertunic. Then finally, undoing the cords around his ankles, he shimmied out of his pants and undergarments.</p><p>The tub was built into the stone in a circle, a small step up to get into it, and nestled by one wall, where the pipes ran towards the ceiling, letting the water fall down like hot rain if he wanted to use them. Which he absolutely did. Adjusting the knobs after he stepped into the tub, he lifted his head and relished as the hot water sprayed his face, dripping through his hair and onto his back, warming his stiff and achy body. Ichigo could finally let his shoulders sag, the weight of the day, the stress, finally starting to drain from his body. He felt like he’d been up for a whole week at this point. The knot in his stomach was still here, but it was distant under the hot water stream.</p><p>Reaching over to the knobs, he turned the right one to adjust the water as hot as he could stand, steam beginning to rise from the basin he was standing in and fogging up the mirror on the stone vanity. He turned and rested his arms on the lip of the tub, water hitting and rolling down his back in hot rivulets. It felt almost like fingers massaging into his skin as fat drops hit his back in all the right places. He really hoped the nutjob in the other room wasn’t setting anything on fire just to see what would happen, he seemed like the type, honestly.</p><p>Sure his bed was nice and big, but was he really going to let the blue haired wildcat sleep in his bed…<em>with him?</em></p><p><em>I mean, I barely know the guy…not that he doesn’t know anything about me.</em> Heat rose to Ichigo’s face as he realized he’d basically poured out his whole life story to the guy. His dreams, something he had never told anymore, how his friends had come to live in the castle, how weird his father was….He cowered in his hands for a brief moment. <em>I just blurted everything out like a moron because he’s hot,</em> Ichigo thought bitterly, scrubbing his face with a rag, making sure to get off every single speck of mud.</p><p>It should sound like a bad idea. But the thought of waking up to another warm body, another person whose life seemed different, but similar in some aspects to his own. <em>I wonder how recent…no, that doesn’t matter. </em></p><p>Hell, Ichigo’s mother had died nearly sixteen years ago, and he still had nightmares. Did this guy have nightmares too? Maybe neither of them would tonight with the other close by? Ichigo shook his head, <em>that kind of comfort isn’t usually for strangers.</em> Maybe since he’d talked with his father, even though things were still unresolved, that would help him sleep soundly for once? Ichigo sighed and watched the steam thicken in the room, and sat in the tub, meticulously scrubbing the dirt from his feet.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Kurosaki, what fuckin’ language is this?” Grimmjow asked, barging right into the bathroom, and stopping, a large tome in his hand, startling Ichigo to stand. He watched through the steam in wide-eyed horror as Grimmjow’s eyes slowly ran down his body, and covered up his…nether regions, before the man got too much of an eyeful. He needed to keep what remaining self-respect he had, after all. He jolted when Grimmjow dropped the book carelessly on the floor with a loud thud and stepped over it, walking straight towards him.</p><p>“Will you get the fuck out?!” He scream-shouted, voice barely cracking, heat rising quickly to his face.</p><p>Grimmjow did not get the fuck out; rather, he got the fuck closer, and closer until he was right close to the tub, inspecting the pipework and shower mechanism, as close as he could get to it, anyway. The ceiling was angled, so it was lower near the shower, but still well out of reach, even for the taller male, not that it stopped him from trying.</p><p>“How the hell does this thing work?” he asked, sticking his hand directly into the water stream to get at the head of the shower and hissing at the heat of the water. Ichigo considered biting him in his stupidly muscular arm, and angled himself well out of reach of the guys dumb wet hands.</p><p>“Grimmjow, get the hell out!”</p><p>“Y’know, for someone tryin’ to court me, you ain’t doin’ a very good job,” the man said, showing off sharp white fangs. Ichigo snorted, only getting a little water up his nose, and hoped that Grimmjow didn’t notice.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’ve been told but—”   </p><p>“Why, afraid I’d see something? I hate to tell ya, Kurosaki, but I know what a dick looks like—might even have one myself,” he said, not even to bother hiding his leering at the other man’s crotch like he was hiding some sort of irreplaceable treasure behind his cleaning cloth, rather than his bastard of a hardening dick.  </p><p>Ichigo’s eye twitched, and he shifted in his spot, holding the rag closer, and tried to will his budding erection away. Of all the things…of all the <em>people</em>…</p><p>“Good to know, but that doesn’t mean I want you seeing mine. Get out.” Grimmjow snorted and turned around, beginning to tug as the straps and cords on his worn calf-high boots.</p><p>“Tch. Don’t see why it matters. We’re gonna be sleeping in the same bed and—”</p><p>“Who the fuck said that?!” Ichigo said, standing up abruptly, the cloth making a wet slap on the stone floor as it slipped from his grasp. Tensing and kneeling back down to pick up the bastard rag, Grimmjow threw a glance over his shoulder and snickered to himself.  </p><p>“I the fuck did. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor you’re outta yer mind. That bed could fit ten guys my size.”</p><p>Ichigo wanted to scrub his eyes, but that would mean he’d have to take a hand away from covering himself, and he needed both hands for the purpose of modestly. He considered switching the water to ice cold, just to punish his dick, but thought otherwise. That would definitely tip the other man off. Ichigo was pulled out of his thoughts with the sound of rustling; he heard something clink like metal. <em>Like a buckle. Oh shit.</em> Grimmjow began to undo the buckle of his pants, and Ichigo’s heart stopped completely.  </p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> do you think you’re doing now?! K-keep your pants on!” He cursed himself for the stutter, like he was some innocent virgin maiden. <em>I mean, I kind of am, but that’s not the point!</em> He watched with a fixed gaze as the black cloak slid off broad shoulders and pooled at Grimmjow’s feet, his back unbearably toned, muscles tensing and relaxing at his movements, torso wrapped up still in the black makeshift bandages of a torn shirt. <em>I don’t think any shirt of mine will fit…</em> Ichigo could barely see a small scar peeking out the bottom of the bandage job in the soft yellow light, paled skin cut at an angle.</p><p>“I ain’t sleeping with mud on my face, asswipe.” Ichigo swallowed thickly. He would budge on a lot of things, but there was no way in <em>hell</em> he was sharing a shower with a stranger. He couldn’t. It was…illegal or indecent or…something. There had to be an excuse there somewhere.</p><p>“Great! Use it <em>after</em> I’m done!” Face red and burning, Ichigo tried to look anywhere but at the undressing man, who didn’t even bother to stop.</p><p>Grimmjow pulled at one worn boot, and Ichigo noticed the tip was going to have a hole in it soon—he’d have to ask Uryu to do something about that, since his <em>friends</em> were clearly so intent on helping him with these <em>endeavors</em>. Grimmjow’s back was turned so Ichigo made the decision to wash and scour himself clean in under two minutes, wrapping a towel around his waist before the man decided that was time enough and pulled his pants clean off. Turning around, Ichigo was met with an almost full frontal of the man.</p><p><em>Well, at least he’s a natural blue….</em> was the first thought to pop into Ichigo’s head before he realized he was looking at another man’s dick. Spinning around so he was facing the wall, he counted to fifteen and back down twice. He wasn’t thinking about his natural color…or his size…or how—<em>no no no! Urahara in a ballgown, Shinji in a corset, Uryu in a stupid hat or something, Isshin in…just Isshin actually. </em>Regulating his breathing as best he could, heart beating so fast he could barely feel it, “I’ll see if I can find something in your size,” Ichigo squeaked out, trying to sound more masculine as he felt.</p><p>Grimmjow grunted that same low rumble that effected Ichigo horribly the first time he’d heard it. The second time was no better, and he adjusted the towel minutely, trying not to be too obvious.  </p><p>“What’s a’matter <em>Kurosaki,</em> ya didn’t have to leave. I figured you’d jump at the chance, ya pervert,” the deviant said, voice suddenly smooth as silk.</p><p>Ichigo’s red face got redder and he spun around, glaring into blazing blue eyes, momentarily forgetting about the sight that awaited him further south. Grimmjow had stepped into the circular basin, water falling on the crown of his head and tricking down. Ichigo suddenly found himself jealous of the water.</p><p>
  <em>“I am not—”</em>
</p><p>“Keep tellin’ yerself that,” Grimmjow snorted, running fingers through his air, bare arms raised above his head, and closing his eyes. “But I know what being watched feels like.” Ichigo breathed out his nose loudly, trying to sound more frustrated than he felt, and swallowed as the water spray forced fat droplets down his neck and defined, newly scarred chest, and <em>not an inch farther, thank you very much, </em>he hissed to himself, turning around, wet feet slapping against the stone floor as he tried to walk calmly towards the door and slamming it shut.</p><p>He was finding that idiot some damn pants if it killed him. Shuffling over to the wardrobe that appeared to have been raided by a blue-haired bandit, he sighed to himself. <em>What a mess.</em> Rifling through some of the clothing, he found a pair of silken pajama pants that should fit Grimmjow’s tree-trunk legs, and the long-sleeved shirt that went with it; walking back over to the bathroom door, he opened it slightly,<em> not peeking inside like a pervert,</em> and dropped them in a heap just inside the door, not bothering to say anything. His mouth wasn’t working right now anyway. It was obvious enough, he hoped.</p><p>Grabbing a small cloth, he quickly rooted it through his hair before toweling off more completely and changing into pants of his own. Well, ones that would fit him appropriately. Growling to himself about <em>neatness,</em> he folded up the clothes Grimmjow had decorated the floor with, and put them back where they were supposed to go.</p><p>Using the dim light of the candle still flickering on his nightstand, he threw back the silvery covers on his bed and began to make a wall of pillows. A separation of sin and state, if you will. Ichigo groaned as he grabbed another pillow and placed it in the center of the bed, halfway completing his wall of celibacy.</p><p>“There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping tonight,” he muttered to himself.</p><p>“Tch. Not with all that shit in the way you’re not,” came a voice to his left. Ichigo sighed and turned his head, staring at a mostly clothed Grimmjow. <em>At least he’s got the pants on.</em> The shirt had been used to create new makeshift bandages, across the lower half of his torso only; Ichigo felt his eyebrows twitch. <em>We have actual bandages you jackass.</em> He crossed his arms over his half-bandaged chest and leaned against the door frame of the bathroom, eyeing the wall Ichigo had made with amusement. Ichigo frowned between him and his levee of pillows.</p><p>“Tch, quite a little prude for a pervert,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and walking over to the nearer side of the bed. Ichigo bit back a retort, and watched as Grimmjow climbed into it, grabbing three of the pillows and flung them behind him. He snatched one of the two left, stuffing it under his head as he fell back into it, arms crossed behind his head.</p><p>Ichigo barely heard the small content sight escape from him as he settled into the plush of the bed. Ichigo glared at him, but grabbed the final pillow in his now deconstructed and useless barrier wall, and put it underneath his head, turning his back to the blue haired deviant he was letting use the bed. Focusing on his breathing, trying to get what little thoughts he could understand in to some semblance of order, but it more resembled a bunch of goats ramming their horns against each other in some macho display of aggression, a deciding factor on who would be the alpha-goat-thought. Unfortunately, the more he tried, the less it looked like either side was winning.</p><p>Forcing his eyes shut, he tried to feel the darkness surrounding him, enveloping him in warm, inviting shadows. His muscles were suddenly give out, exhaustion setting in a kind of finality. His back hurt, arms were tired, neck beginning to untense itself.</p><p>“You like this with everyone?”  Grimmjows voice said out of nowhere, quieter than Ichigo had heard before. Ichigo sighed and shifted the pillow underneath his head, trying to get his arm comfortable. He was used to sleeping on his back in the middle of the, not on his side.  </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Ichigo’s eyes fluttered closed, suddenly heavy, breathing slowed. Now wasn’t the time for a conversation.</p><p>“Giving your shit away like this.” He thought he felt something brush up against the back of his neck, but maybe it was a trick of his tired brain. Or maybe it was a spider, that would be his luck. Hopefully it would crawl into Grimmjow’s big mouth instead.</p><p>“Dunno what you’re talking about, idiot. Now shut up and go to sleep. If I wake up and your foot is in my face, I’m biting your toes off.”</p><p>He heard Grimmjow chuckle, and breath was pushed through his hair, against the back of his head, a solid, warm pressure at his back. Ichigo tensed slightly, but the other man didn’t move. <em>Oh god don’t tell me the big scary troll is a cuddler.</em></p><p>“Kinky.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hiraeth: Welsh (n.) a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or never was. </p><p>OOooooooOOOOooo getting closer to some interesting shenanigans, eh? Maybe? We shall see ;) As always kudos and comments appreciated! This week was sooo much less stressful than the last. Hope everyone had a great week! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Awaken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ichigo must've fallen asleep at some point, awaking to warmth around him. Damn, his covers were good, and he actually felt somewhat rested. That was a first in a long time.<br/>Unfortunately nothing good can last when he's actually conscious, and he's soon surrounded by his trio of over-protective friends, weapons at the ready in case the blue-haired man did anything funny. Wait, was that why he was so warm?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so much for your comments and nice words, they really mean a lot to me! I was a little worried with the last chapter, so I kind of drug this one out writing wise; I think I'm satisfied with it? We shall see, I guess. Anyway, thank again for the kudo's and comments! :) If something is ever not clear or something, please let me know and I will do my best to fix it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo awoke to warmth, covers pulled to the back of his neck, thick rope wrapped around his torso. <em>I thought my bed was softer than this,</em> he thought, lulling his head around his pillow. Except his pillow wasn’t there, replaced by a stiff, bony buffer. Even worse, he was on his stomach—he never slept on his stomach, nightmares were always the worst when he did. Position too vulnerable, like he was being smothered or choaked.</p><p>Ichigo blinked. <em>What nightmares?</em> He wasn’t broken out in a cold sweat, didn’t wake up screaming, and his body wasn’t outrageously tensed up like it usually was. Was it possible…?<em> Did I actually sleep through the night for once?</em> Shifting a little to get more comfortable, the rope tightened around his waist.  </p><p>He blinked the sleep in his eyes. <em>Rope?</em> <em>What rope? I don’t sleep with rope.</em></p><p>Ichigo felt a rush of air hit the top of his head on an exhale.  </p><p>“You do realize I could kill you, right?” rumbled beneath him, vibrations low and sleepy to his ears. That didn’t bode well. Ichigo flattened a hand across the surface and felt raised scarring, warm and rough. </p><p>Focusing his eyes from hazed glances, he saw skin. Pale skin. Faint pink scar. Rising and falling as if breathing and living and…<em>Oh shit. </em>Looking up the scar up the neck and into the face of one sleepy, frowning Grimmjow, who he’d apparently been using as a pillow for who knew how long. His eyes weren’t open, but he still looked like he just finished chewing something bitter and sour. How could someone look so grumpy with their eyes closed? <em>And he’s not even a good pillow, his chest is…too hard, it’s like I’m laying on a stone wall.</em></p><p>Ichigo was determined to not blush this early in the morning. It wasn’t going to happen; he wouldn’t let it. That was a fight he would win or smother the muscly, grouch under him. Narrowing his eyes, he said the only thing he could think of, sleep still clouding his mind in a fog.  </p><p>“Come on man, stay on your side of the bed,” Ichigo said, pushing off the man, one hand on his chest, one hand on the bed behind him. Grimmjow cracked open an eye to glare at him, blue shimmering in the morning light coming through the large window. He tightened the hold on Ichigo’s waist, fingers digging into the silky fabric of his top and into his skin.</p><p>The room was bathed in light for the first time in nearly a week, gray skies nowhere to be seen. Streaming in the window, sunlight lit up the room, illuminating the personality within. Desk facing the window, chair pushed in, piles of papers, a couple of books on diplomacy setting on the corner, hiding the poetry book tome underneath them, pack of cards stacked on top, lute propped up beside it, underneath the window sill. Walls painted a mute tan, opting out of the usual frivolous and intricate paintings, cold stone floor covered in different types of rugs trying to alleviate the chill, and a pile of books on the floor. <em>Grimmjow must’ve done that after he re-arranged my wardrobe. </em>The man didn’t strike Ichigo as a particularly messy person, but so far, that’s all Ichigo was getting. A big mess, a <em>big hot one.</em></p><p>“I did, idiot. You’re the one who decided he wanted to <em>cuddle</em>,” Grimmjow said, spitting the last word out like poison. Ichigo frowned at him and looked around the bed. Yep, he was definitely not where he had fallen asleep at on the side. Rather, they were both in the middle, Grimmjow flat on his back, head on a pillow, one arm thrown over Ichigo’s body like an anchor cable, holding him in place as he laid across Grimmjow’s chest. <em>If you don’t like it, why are you holding so tight,</em> he thought bitterly, glancing down briefly at a toned abdomen, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Well, what he could see anyway, the bandages were still firmly wrapped around his lower abs.</p><p>Ichigo felt his eyebrow twitch as Grimmjow’s face split into a smug grin.</p><p>“Why you little—” A knock at the door interrupted Ichigo’s threat, alerting him to a new one. If <em>anyone </em>saw them, Ichigo would have to kill them. That was really the only option he had left. He tried to sit up and off the man beneath him, but the arm tightened its grip, binding him to the spot.</p><p>“Let go,” Ichigo said, shooting him a warning look.</p><p>“Or what? Isn’t this what everyone expects anyway?” The grin hadn’t gone away; in fact, Ichigo thought it had gotten bigger, even. He tried to wiggle free from the mans grasp, but that only ground his body into the one below him.</p><p>“Now you’re gettin’ the picture,” Grimmjow said, scratching the scar on his face, grin stretching even wider, leaning into feral territory. “Come in!” Ichigo’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised, mouth dropping open.</p><p>“You idiot!” Ichigo whisper-yelled, smashing a hand down on Grimmjow’s feral face. “No-no don’t open the—”</p><p>Too late. The knob was turning before Ichigo could finish his sentence, Orihime waltzing in without a care in the world. Barely giving the men a second glace, she twirled around a couple of times, sing-songing about what a beautiful morning it was, that Tatsuki was making breakfast for them. She hoped they liked eggs. <em>Oh shit. </em>Ichigo could feel the heat rise to his face at being caught in such a...vulnerable position. </p><p>Uryu passed through the halfway opened door a split second later, arrow set on his bow and ready to strike, white leather gloves radiant in the sunlight. <em>Double shit. </em></p><p> Chad followed Uryu, broadsword brandished from its sheath. He never drew it unless he was absolutely serious about fucking shit up. <em>Well, the three Shitskateers are here. Fan-fucking-tastic. </em>Ichigo wanted to crawl under the covers and try again, sans blue haired idiot ruining his morning.  </p><p>“What in the hell is going on here?” Uryu asked, arrow pointed directly at the pair. Ichigo’s hand still covered Grimmjow’s face, and he was trying not to react to the tongue roving across his open palm like it was licking some kind of sweetened candy.</p><p>“Come on guys, what if I had been naked?” he immediately blurted out, pinching skin on the bicep encircling his waist. Grimmjow growled softly enough that Ichigo was probably, hopefully the only one who heard it as he dropped his arm away. Pushing off the man underneath him in one fluid motion, dragging wet palm across his shirt, throwing off the blanket, Ichigo stood to face his so-called friends. Orihime didn’t bother containing her laughter. Uryu tensed, and Ichigo saw Chad tighten the grip of his sword.</p><p>“We’ve all seen you naked, dummy. Remember when you tried that wine Lady Yoruichi made two years ago?”</p><p>Ichigo felt his ears reddening, along with the rest of him, he was sure. Deciding not to answer seemed like the best option, especially that his second was admitting, no, he didn’t remember, but apparently everyone else wouldn’t let him forget. He could feel eyes burn into him from behind, right into the back of his head.  </p><p>“That was one time,” Ichigo tried to counter.</p><p>“I’ve seen you naked more than once,” Orihime added immediately, looking past him, directly at Grimmjow and waving at him cheerfully, like she hadn't just uttered the worst thing in the world. Ichigo didn’t want to turn around and face him ever again. He’d never hear the end of it.</p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Uryu said, glaring at Ichigo arrow pointed at him briefly. Chad nodded in agreement as well. <em>Has everyone seen me naked more than that awful time?</em></p><p>Ichigo stood in crisis, trying to remember the times he had seen his friends naked. Uryu had been there the longest, being that his father had worked for Isshin, even if reluctantly. He did walk in on him bathing once on accident, so Ichigo guessed that counted. Orihime had healed him after one particularly difficult sparring match with Shinji, she had just been in a towel, one Yoruichi had pulled down halfway through because she was a little shit, and Urahara had probably dared her. Ichigo had screamed louder than Orihime did. Chad had come to them barely clothed, so maybe that counted? Ichigo certainly counted it, if only to make himself feel a little better.</p><p>“And here I thought you were a prude,” Grimmjow’s voice said from behind him mockingly. “Sure didn’t like it when—"</p><p>“He is,” came Uryu’s biting reply, cutting the man off and moving his bow, aiming at his head. Chad raised his sword defensively, taking a step forward, the one eye not hidden behind his dark brown hair never left Grimmjow’s face. Ichigo looked back and glared at the man lounging in his bed like he owned it. <em>You’ve certainly made yourself comfortable, you dick.</em></p><p>Grimmjow didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by anything that was going on, arms crossed behind his head, covers undone to his hip area, showing off skin and muscle, scar and bandages. Feeling a headache coming on, Ichigo shut his eyes and counted backwards from twenty. When he opened one eye, everything was still exactly where it had been twenty numbers ago. He closed his eyes and did it again, this time in Spanish.</p><p>“Sure, sure. Whaddya want anyway?” Grimmjow asked, ruining his concentration.</p><p>Uryu gawked at him</p><p>“This isn’t <em>your cast—”</em></p><p>“Please don’t start arguing this early in the morning.” Ichigo said, rubbing his temples.</p><p>Uryu bickered back at him, starting on one of his long spiels about <em>dignity</em> and <em>respecting the crown </em>and all that shit. Ichigo rolled his eyes and watched as Orihime walked up to the bed where Grimmjow still laid, and sat down on the edge.</p><p>“Did I not heal you sufficiently, Mr. Grimmjow?” she asked, looking to the bandages with what Ichigo assumed was a frown. </p><p>He rolled his eyes, and glared back at her; she didn’t seem bothered.</p><p>“Thought I told you to drop the mister shit.”</p><p>“My apologies, are you not healed completely, <em>Grimmjow?</em>” she asked again, the tone in her voice shooting a small shiver down Ichigo’s spine. Protective Orihime was even worse than Uryu and Chad combined. Once she broke out her explosive shielding spells, he was done for. <em>Oh god not her too. </em></p><p>“Orihime you really don’t have to interrogate him—”</p><p>“Why, did something happen we should know about? Did something happen we <em>shouldn’t</em> know about?” Uryu asked, jumping to her defense, though Ichigo didn’t really know what there was to defend. She was quite capable, especially when she was pissed and had one of the kitchen knives. She didn’t need magic to be scary. Good thing she rarely ever was.</p><p>Ichigo heaved a deep sigh, shoulders slouching forward, head in one of his hands, rubbing the creases he knew were forming on his forehead.</p><p>“You said you’d explain in the morning,” Orihime said, not standing from her position on the bed, eyeing Ichigo with concern. He looked to her, then to Uryu and Chad. Finally, his eyes settled on the man in his bed, he seemed like he was ready to go back to sleep, eyes closing slowly, head rolling to the side. <em>Is he really not worried about all the people in the room? What if they all decide to kill him? He surely isn’t trusting me to save him, that would be ridiculous. </em></p><p><em>“</em>It’s morning, Ichigo. I think we all want to know what’s going on,” Uryu finished for her. <em>God why don’t you just shove your tongue down her throat, since you’re already pulling her sentences out for her. </em></p><p>“Fine fine, but just…calm down,” he said giving each of them a <em>look</em>. He glared at the archer then, bow still very much in his hands, arrow steadied on it. “And put that shit away. I brought him back with me last night. <em>You saw him damnit.</em>”</p><p>Uryu didn’t listen, as per usual, arrow still held on the bow, even though it was pointed at the floor. Ichigo turned around, head shaking. <em>I have not one, but four parents. And they’re all annoying.</em> Walking back to the side of the bed, he sat, arms settling on his knees, Orihime didn’t move beside him, other than reaching out a hand and patting his knee. He felt Grimmjow shift his position a little bit behind him.</p><p>“Back from where?” Chad asked, sheathing his broadsword quietly.</p><p>“The Forest.”</p><p>“<em>The Forest,”</em> Uryu hissed, throwing his head back in frustration. Ichigo could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears. “What the <em>hell were you doing in—”</em></p><p>“Ever heard of the Espada?” Ichigo asked, looking between his friends. Uryu dropped his defensive stance completely, a scowl on his face. Chad’s expression was unreadable, Orihime shook her head.  </p><p>“They killed the prince of the Kingdom to the southwest of here, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. I guess,” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head, “I guess I ran into one of them about a week ago.” Uryu opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was an angry and slightly disappointed noise. Ichigo was getting a lot better at deciphering his various frustration sounds. This one in particular said he was going to tie Ichigo up and leave him in a closet somewhere, so he wouldn’t get into any more trouble for a couple days.</p><p>“You guess?” Chad asked, putting words into a way that made sense.</p><p>“Yeah, poisoned me with some kind of paralytic. That’s why I was gone for three days,” Ichigo admitted sheepishly, avoiding the alarmed looks his friends were giving him now. Jabbing his thumb in Grimmjow’s direction he added, “He saved my life.”</p><p>Ichigo looked to Grimmjow, as the rest of the group did. His eyes were opened, arms now crossed across his chest defiantly, like he thought he was needing to defend something. In the light, Ichigo noticed his arms were littered with pale scars, small slashes all the way up to his shoulder. The left side of his neck had a huge, crescent shaped scar that screamed bad news. <em>How they hell did he get that? If that couldn’t kill’em, I really don’t think any of us could, </em>he realized, openly staring at the scar. Grimmjow glared back at him.</p><p>“So yesterday, you left in such a rush to go find this guy?” Uryu said behind him.  <em>He has a name you shithead.</em></p><p>“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” he mumbled, looking up towards the ceiling, hoping this conversation would be over soon.</p><p>“Ichigo, I know you don’t make the best decisions regarding your physical welfare, but bringing back this man…this <em>stranger</em> seems like a cry for help.”</p><p>Ichigo closed his eyes to keep from rolling them. <em>Rip the bandage off, Ichigo.</em></p><p>“Yesterday I overheard Isshin and Urahara discussing them...the Espada. They....they killed Kaien…and my mother,” he admitted after a bit of silence. There. It was out in the open for the world to see. Well, his world, anyway. Almost all of it, anyway. Looking down at his hands, for the briefest moment, the smallest split in time, an atom of a second, he thought he saw the blood of his mother, dripping and oozing from the creases in his palms, like he was seven years old again.</p><p>“Karin and Yuzu don’t know.” And if he had his way, he’d keep it like that until he could figure out the right thing to say. For now the wrong thing would be worse.</p><p><em>Huh, maybe that’s what Dad meant.</em> Ichigo snorted to himself mostly, to think he was already turning into his father should be scary. <em>I guess there are different ways of protecting people you care about. </em></p><p>Ichigo tilted his head, looking between his friends. At first, none of them could meet his gaze, something he didn’t quite understand. They were all fairly acquainted with death, had all lost someone, lost a piece of themselves. Glancing back at Grimmjow, he was the only one to meet and return his gaze, his face carefully blank. For whatever reason, Ichigo felt a small comfort in that, knowing at least someone would see him.</p><p> </p><p>“That explains it, then.” Uryu mumbled quietly, more to himself than anything else. Ichigo couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, the quick bastard. He’d probably known before Ichigo had, making his whole guilt trip obsolete and dumb to begin with.</p><p>“Explains what?” Ichigo sounded tired, he noticed. Probably not even seven am and he was already exhausted. This whole little intervention was sapping the energy straight from his bones. Grimmjow would have to scoot over soon, if this drug on for much longer.</p><p>“I overhead something as well, years ago.” Ichigo nodded, his voice sounded kind of warbely, like it was underwater. Ichigo shook his head to right the sound, it didn’t help.</p><p>“So you knew.”</p><p>“No. Not for sure until now.” <em>When had Uryu knelt beside me,</em> he wondered, looking at the man on his right side, crouched down on the floor beside him. Ichigo watched with distant eyes as he put a hand on his knee, a gesture, he supposed, to feel like comfort, but to him, it felt like pity. A deep trap, filled with bones and blood. He was tired of blood. Ichigo sighed. <em>Why am I always the last to find out?</em></p><p>“Oh Ichigo, I’m so—”</p><p>“I don’t need pity,” he said through grit teeth, not wanting to look into Orihime’s big, sorry eyes. He didn’t tell her that their situations were more similar than he wanted to think about, but decided only one of them needed to bear that weight for now. His shoulders were big enough. Uryu backed away slightly, giving him some space, another thing to be grateful for.</p><p>“We need to find the Espada,” Ichigo said with finality, looking around at his friends surrounding him. Turning to Grimmjow, all eyes on the blue haired menace sitting up in his bed, arm propped up on one knee, eyebrow raised at the gang in front of him. He looked uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. At least he wasn’t snarling yet.</p><p>“You can help us with that, can’t you.” It wasn’t a question he’d asked, Ichigo realized belatedly as the man said nothing, instead glaring at him with pointed daggers for eyes. Ichigo wasn’t sure what made him so certain, but he was positive, he knew more than he let on. If he stayed long enough, he was sure the whole story would come out sooner or later. It wasn’t like they couldn’t wait, as long as the man didn't make a run for it. </p><p>“Tch. An’ what makes you think somethin’ like that?” Grimmjow asked finally, switching his gaze to vague disinterest, eyeing the faces watching him. Ichigo had no intentions to speak of the whole…pack being probably violently murdered thing, that seemed a little much. But there were other things. Indicators of more.</p><p>“You knew the man’s name,” Ichigo pointed out. <em>And he recognized you too, </em>he added internally. Grimmjow shrugged nonchalantly, like he hadn’t run into a whack-job shooting poison tipped arrows like it was his damned job.</p><p>“Tch, had one too many run ins with that annoying bastard,” Grimmjow said, rubbing the scar on his face again. Ichigo noticed a small tattoo on his wrist, it looked like…a moon? A thick crescent moon? How many tattoos did the guy have? <em>Weird.</em></p><p>“So he was an espada, then.” Ichigo said. Grimmjow looked at him, irritation clear on his face.</p><p>“I already told you he was, shithead.”</p><p>“Why did you save Ichigo instead of going after the espada?” Chad asked suddenly, sword sheath pointed onto the stone floor, hand wrapped around the grip of the sword. Leave it to him to ask the important questions.</p><p>“Did you want the wolves to eat him?” was all Grimmjow asked. They all had a moment where they thought the same thing: <em>good point.</em> Chad nodded and patted the top of his sword twice, deep in thought.</p><p>“ ’Sides,” Grimmjow added, not meeting Ichigo’s gaze suddenly. “I heard’em say he was a prince. Didn’t want soldiers wanderin’ around lookin’ for’em. Be a pain in my ass.” Ichigo felt his eyebrow twitch.</p><p>“You <em>knew</em> <em>then</em> who I was? You absolute ass—”</p><p>“You seriously don’t think you got back to the castle on your own th’ first time, right?” Grimmjow asked, cutting him off. Ichigo snapped his mouth shut, a frown forming on his lips. To be honest, he didn’t want to think about what had happened; wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>------------------------------</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re a real lard-ass under those clothes, know that kid?” Grimmjow said, hauling the hallucinating prince onto that damned prissy horse. Shit, he was heavier than he looked; course it didn’t help he was knocked out cold, gangly limbs rolling around like wet little worms.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The horse stamped his feet on the ground, protesting carrying the weight of both men, neither of which were small. Grimmjow almost felt sorry for the horse, almost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Get over yerself, you behemoth,” Grimmjow gritted, maneuvering the human shaped mass of weight onto the horse, balancing him on the front of his back. “Yer ass is big enough to carry us both.” Grimmjow rolled the kid around until he could get a good enough grip and mount the horse too. Zangetsu sidestepped as Grimmjow tried the first time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I will grind you into glue myself if ya keep it up, shitstain,” he growled out. His vision was getting hazy. The moon was barely a sliver of silver on the dark dress of the sky. Pools of his eyes nearly blown, blackness spreading throughout a single eye. He didn’t have much time. Horse must’ve noticed and stopped, eyeing the man with big eyes, narrow pupils. He raised his large, black head then, almost as if to nod in permission.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This time, Grimmjow was able to get on no problem. Situating himself, he tried to figure out the best way to get to the castle without either of them falling off. Riding double was a pain in the ass, especially since one party was completely useless. Well, more so than normal, he figured.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Good thing there wasn’t a saddle,’ he thought, ‘Or I’d definitely be keepin’ it. Ain’t no way that would work.’ The horn would’ve gotten in the way, not to mention they were ass shaped anyway—definitely not situated for the midriff of a person. If Grimmjow wasn’t going to walk beside the horse and lead, there was really only one other option. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sighing in resignation, he maneuvered the unconscious body until he was face up, both legs slung over once side of the horse, dangling across Grimmjow's left leg, body anchored to his chest by a strong arm holding him in place. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You better damn well know where you’re going, horse,” he said, as he kicked him in the side, forcing him to go forward. Zangetsu whinnied in protest but shot forward, straight into a gallop. Either horse had stamina enough to power a whole village, or the castle wasn’t far off. Whichever way, hopefully it wouldn’t be long. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As the horse moved rhythmically across the soil, hooves barely hitting the ground, Grimmjow noticed the enchantment on his hooves began to glow, encircling each one with a dull red light before it wove around them quickly, tying intricate knots into the air above them, odd symbols twisting around their heads and bodies, before vanishing. Grimmjow recognized the symbols; it was a double enchantment.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Silencing and a protection ward, huh? Looks like someone’ll miss you,” he grumbled out, breath hitting the crown of the princes head. Briefly, he looked down at the orange crest of hair, obnoxious even in the lightless night, and shifted him a little closer, hand tight on his bicep to keep him from rolling around too much. He could feel warm breath ghost across an open area in his shirt, haunting his skin with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long, long time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>At least the horse seemed to know where he was going, even though Grimmjow was pretty lost. Every tree looked just as black as the last, the darkness familiar and unnerving. The shift was coming in pinpricks along his spine. He was glad he’d taken his boots off and left them at the shack, otherwise they’d be torn away pretty soon. As they passed through a dilapidated part of a stone wall, he could make out a tower in the distance. The castle was close. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Fuckin’ good,’ he thought. His arm was gonna be hella sore, clutching the idiot prince to him like he was full of porcelain eggs. One of his eyes was completely lost to the darkness, vision gone completely. Only thing keeping him in his right mind was the protection ward around them all. The second he dismounted, the shift would start, taking the last of his wits with it. Prickling in his back had already started, dull ache richening in his chest, between his ribs, coursing through his veins had started hours ago, when left to get water for the sweaty brat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hated the way his body made room for the monster, made room with pain and ache and hunger. He always woke up covered in blood and scratches, fur between his claws and teeth. By the time he got the taste of blood out of his mouth, the dull ache would set in, and it was time to do it all again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grimmjow shook his head and pulled at the reins, stopping Zangetsu. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re on yer own from here,” he said, laying the prince down across him with shaky arms. His fingertips were already turning clawed, darkness creeping up his arms like a disease, death would accompany those claws soon. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Soon as I get off, make a run for it. Fast as you can without dipshit fallin’ off. I’ll hold it off long as I can.” He spoke  quietly to the horse, like he could understand. But he knew a person wouldn’t put those kinds of enchantments on any dumb animal, this kind needed a baseline to start, and Grimmjow certainly didn’t know either of them. It had to be the horse—certain animals could be trained to hold enchantments on them, and this horse seemed exceptionally smart. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He seemed to nod-could tell something was going on with the man. His voice was beginning to split pitches, growling more words than saying them. Grimmjow made sure the kid was settled onto the horse without falling off too easily, and steadied himself, inhaling sharply as a bolt of pain went up his spine. It was either now, or kill a member of royalty and his dumb-ass smarty pants horse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grimmjow threw his leg over and pushed off Zangetsu, not looking back as he ran towards the woods, body beginning to spasm as fingers twitched, other eye beginning to fade, giving into the darkness. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The last thing he remembered was passing into the tree line, roar ripping out of his throat as his vision faded to black. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>----------------</em>
</p><p>“Does your father know?” the woman asked, turning her big-ass eyes on Kurosaki. Seriously, most of her face was eyes. Her little intimidation thing had been cute, if he was into that sort of thing-she was about a scary as a small woodland creature. Grimmjow looked towards the prince who had sat on the side of the bed sometime ago. He gave her a knowing look, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>The archer snorted, sheathing his arrow in the quiver on his back. <em>What, does he sleep with that on?</em> Grimmjow wouldn’t put it past the guy, he seemed pretty uptight. Kurosaki turned to face him, hiding his face making it impossible to Grimmjow to see his expression.</p><p>This wasn’t the start to the day he was expecting, but it would work. He honestly expected to wake up with an arrow pointed in his face immediately. Hell, he figured the guy would’ve staked out the room and drug him out sometime during the night and stabbed him in the face with one. But waking up with Kurosaki pressing the warm weight of his body on him wasn’t too bad. Grimmjow didn’t expect it to feel so…calming, the weight of another person on him. It had been years since he’d felt that grounded. But now wasn’t the time for that.</p><p>“Well, better get down to breakfast then, he’s waiting for us,” glasses said, crossing his arms, bow hanging like a limp rag in one hand.</p><p>“What?” Kurosaki stood to his full height. His mood has shifted back to what Grimmjow guessed was his normal—clueless and naïve. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, didn’t know how the kid had made it as far in life as he had. He guessed princess, glasses and big’n’tall had done more than their fair share in keeping him breathing.  </p><p>“Are you deaf or dumb? Both perhaps?” <em>See,</em> he thought, staring at Kurosaki’s back, <em>he gets it. </em></p><p>“I wasn’t going to say anything until—”</p><p>“Well, better come up with something then, because he’s waiting for us. <em>All</em> of us,” he said, eyeing Grimmjow, who smirked devilishly back, showing off a pair of pointed fangs.</p><p>“Wait does he already know about—”</p><p>Uryu looked back at Kurosaki, who had both hands in his hair and pulling.</p><p>“You bastard!”</p><p>“Did you honestly expect me not to say anything to him? He’s your father, Ichigo!”</p><p>“Yeah, but you sure as hell aren’t!”</p><p>Grimmjow didn’t bother suppressing a chuckle as he listened to the two bicker back and forth like an old married couple. Princess and BnT were looking on as well, glancing between themselves knowingly. She had a big smile on her face, while the big guy was leaning down on his sword, sheath pointed on the floor. From his hidden eyes down, he looked more relaxed than earlier.</p><p>“If it makes you feel any better, I was covering my own ass, not yours.”</p><p>“I know. That’s why I’m pissed.”</p><p>Grimmjow couldn’t help but think of his pack listening to them. How unguarded they both were at this point, how vulnerable. He could shift right then and gut every single one of them, if he wanted. Tear out their throat until they were writhing and bleeding out on the floor. It’s what he would’ve done years ago. Hell, he’d done similar things before, when Aizen….<em>Before everything went to shit, anyway.</em></p><p>“Well better get that out of your system, the King is waiting,” glasses said with an air of finality, crossing his arms. He motioned for the woman and the beast-master.</p><p>“We’ll be in the lower kitchens waiting. Get dressed and meet us down there.” He turned to leave, bring the other two goons with him.</p><p>“Who’s the prince here exactly?” Kurosaki yelled after him as he shut the door. Grimmjow barely caught the woman’s giggle as it slammed shut.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine; you know how His Majesty is,” came her faint reply from the other side before footsteps told they were all walking away.</p><p>“I know, that’s exactly why I’m worried.”</p><p> </p><p>---------------------</p><p>“So, who’s Kaien?” Grimmjow asked as he stood from the bed and stretched his muscles.  Ichigo was standing as well, looking around through his wardrobe for something that would fit the muscle-bound meathead behind him. He sincerely doubted there was anything in there. Double and triple checking, he found one tunic that might fit everywhere but his stupidly muscled arms.</p><p>“Dad’s late brother,” he grumbled, pulling out a tunic that was a little big on him. “See if this will fit you.”  </p><p>“Sounds like someone really doesn’t like your family,” he said, catching the shirt in his hands. He had walked around the other side of the bed, near the desk in the center of  the window and ran his fingers across the strings of the lute, which made a terrible sound, since Ichigo hadn’t tuned it in quite a while, the pegs shifting slightly with disuse. “Even if this’ll fit me, there ain’t no way my ass is gonna fit in any of yer skinny pants.”</p><p>“Tell me about it.” Ichigo said quietly to himself and frowning. He wasn’t going to let Grimmjow walk downstairs like some weirdly half-dressed madman. <em>At least not alone,</em> he thought. <em>Guess we’re both wearing pajamas down there. </em></p><p>“Well, put that on to cover your chest at least. It’s probably the only thing that may fit you.” Ichigo said, turning to him, and making sure his shirt was buttoned most of the way. Grimmjow just cocked an eyebrow at him, and made no immediate moves to do as he was told.</p><p>“Why are you still bandaged? Did you wounds not get completely healed?”</p><p>Ichigo remembered Orihime trying to threaten him—sure she could be scary to Ichigo, but to the man, he seriously doubted she would seem anything other than a pretty, harmless girl. Sure, she could heal, but that’s all he’d probably seen.  </p><p>“Personal preference.”</p><p>“You prefer to have bandages around your core?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Alright then, weirdo. Guess it’s a corset for you then.” Grimmjow glared at him, giving him a quick middle finger for thought before tearing the sleeve off one side of the shirt. Ichigo yelped.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing?!”</p><p>Grimmjow stared at him, face blank.</p><p>“Ain’t no way my arms are gonna fit in the sleeves either, stick-boy.”</p><p>Ichigo watched with a snarl as he did the same thing to the other sleeve and shrugged it on, leaving the first three buttons undone, showing off his collarbones and the center of his chest, a little bit above where the makeshift bandages started. Was this how it was going to be the whole time Grimmjow was there? <em>None of my shirts are gonna have sleeves. I’m either going to need to do more pullups, or ban him from touching my clothes. </em> </p><p>“I guess we’re going down, let’s go,” Ichigo said, turning towards the door and walking. He had it open halfway when Grimmjow spoke.</p><p>“We?” Ichigo turned his head, noticing he hadn’t moved from his spot, standing still as a statue, looking around the room with tense shoulders, like something was going to pop out of the corner and stab a hole in his gut. He rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe.</p><p>“Yep. If I’m getting interrogated, so are you,” he said, crossing his arms and looking up. His dad was going to make things uncomfortable just because he could, probably. That wasn’t a new thing. “Buckle up, buttercup, it’s gonna be real weird. Hopefully no one is here from the Seireitei yet.”</p><p>“If you call me buttercup again, I’m going to kill you,” Grimmjow said, taking a step forward, snarling. <em>At least he doesn’t look like he wants to jump out the window anymore. </em>Ichigo pushed off the frame and walked into the corridor, blue hair trailing after him a couple paces behind.</p><p>“Looks like there’s a line.”</p><p>“Tch.”</p><p>Grimmjow was now beside him, looking around the hall curiously. He kept his face carefully blank.</p><p>He stopped once to look out the window, looking over the sprawling grounds and forest kissing the edge. Ichigo squinted, barely making out the small breach in the wall. He would need to get that fixed, somehow. <em>It’s just a wall, can’t be that hard, right?</em> To Ichigo, it looked like Grimmjow had no intention of moving anytime soon, so he carefully wrapped a couple fingers around the bottom of his bicep, tugging gently. His skin was warm, and he jolted out of whatever was going through his skull at the touch, and followed.</p><p>The silence followed with them down the first staircase and around the corner, until they got to the second, spiraled wooden staircase. Since natural light didn’t keep this area well lit, the wall torches had been refueled and lit, flames flickering against stone wall, illuminating the area in soft yellow light.</p><p> </p><p>“Fancy,” Ichigo heard Grimmjow grumble under his breath, eyeing the staircase. Black ironwork railings, following the twisting of the staircase all the way down. It was only big enough to go one at a time, so Ichigo went first, the other man following closely behind him, head still swiveling around on his neck.</p><p>Finally, they had arrived at the lower kitchens. <em>Seriously, why does no one use the one upstairs? It’s bigger and not in the damned dungeon. </em></p><p>“So what should I expect?” Grimmjow asked suddenly, as they neared the door. Ichigo could hear the familiar voices of his friends inside…and it seemed like Isshin was already in there as well. He hoped Karin and Yuzu were still sleeping, in case certain things were mentioned.</p><p>Ichigo sighed and looked at Grimmjow completely this time, turning fully to him. He man in front of him, well technically he’d been behind him but apples/oranges, looked wary and distrustful. Ichigo certainly couldn’t blame him, <em>this has to be a lot for the guy.</em> At least he seemed like he was taking everything in stride, but everyone has their breaking point.</p><p>“I have no fuckin’ clue,” Ichigo admitted, offering the smallest smile at him. “But if you start getting too…uncomfortable, let me know. Isshin can be…a bit much.” Grimmjow’s face softened for an instant, almost imperceptibly, undone by the small offer of aid, if he desired it. Ichigo turned around, facing the door once more.</p><p>He briefly wondered how long it had been before anyone had offered him…anything. He seemed content to take or do as he pleased, but he hadn’t done anything harmful to anything or anyone. <em>Minus a couple of my shirts, but those are replaceable. </em>And the shower incident last night had been awkward, and a little forward, but if Ichigo was honest with himself, he didn’t particularly mind that either. It wasn’t often a roguishly handsome man barged into the washroom and began to strip down in front of him. That would be an issue for later though, <em>and anyway, I’m sure he was just messing around. Playing into the courtship thing.</em></p><p>Ichigo pushed at the kitchen door, looking back once  at the man to see if he was ready, but his gaze was off somewhere else to the left, shading half his face in flickering shadows from the wall torch.</p><p> </p><p>“Ichigooooo!” his father said as he opened the door, throwing himself at his son immediately, previous somber night seemingly forgotten, hands in a raised karate chop motion aiming for his face. Ichigo waited and ducked as the man approached, throwing an open palm into his face and jamming his thumb and index finger up his nose. He could feel a couple stringy nose-hairs and grimaced before he pulled him down by them.</p><p>“Down boy.” Ichigo muttered, glaring at the man. He yelped as Ichigo accidently plucked a couple with his yanking around, but he didn’t apologize. Isshin then noticed the man behind Ichigo and stood quickly, rubbing the area around his nose to see if Ichigo had ripped it off as well. Looking between them both, Ichigo saw the lightbulb, well, more of a dull wicked candle, go off above his head and Isshin surged forward, past his son, right into the space of the hulking blue haired man. They were pretty much the same height, Ichigo noticed, as they both drew to their full heights, which was slightly taller than himself, unfortunately.</p><p>“Ichigo who is this man! Why didn’t you tell me you brought someone back with you~~” <em>He’s way to happy about this,</em> he figured this was going to end about as poorly has he’d assumed as he watched Grimmjow snarl as two hands clasped one of his own. Ichigo sighed and shook his head.</p><p>“Give you one guess,” he muttered, knowing his father wasn’t actually listening, instead going into papa bear mode, <em>even though I’m twenty-fuckin’-three</em> <em>years old. </em>The protective father was usually reserved for his sisters, but maybe with the conversation they had last night, things had shifted. Ichigo wasn’t sure yet if it was in his favor or not. He was currently going to go with not.</p><p>Isshin definitely wasn’t listening, as he stared intently at Grimmjow’s face, eyeing the scar before looking him up and down in the least discreet way possible. Ichigo watched as he flipped over the hand he’d captured and starred at the tattooed wrist. Ichigo could’ve sworn the moon was a little bigger this time, even if only slightly, but that wasn’t possible, was it? Unless it was some kind of enchanted tattoo. Did those exist? He’d have to ask him, but later perhaps, right now Grimmjow looked incredibly uncomfortable. Opening his mouth to say something, Isshin beat him to it.</p><p>“You’re quite the strapping lad aren't you. Tell me, how old are you? What are your intentions with my son? How long have you known—”</p><p>“He knows about the Espada,” Ichigo said, cutting off his fathers rambling questions, and trying to ignore the faint pink rising on Grimmjow cheeks at being called ‘strapping’. <em>Seriously you old goat, isn’t that a little dated? </em> Isshin shut his gaping maw and narrowed his gaze, squeezing harder on Grimmjow’s hand. Grimmjow in turn didn’t flinch and clasped his hand on the other side of Isshin’s in the worst pissing match he’d had ever seen. Ichigo realized that maybe, starting off with that wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.</p><p>“Is that so?” Isshin said through a wide, fake smile, voice void of previous humor and warmth. <em>Oh shit.</em>  </p><p>“He’s probably being hunted—”</p><p>“Don’t speak for me Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said curtly, cutting him off with his growly deep voice. Ichigo bit down on his tongue to keep the retort he could kiss his ass to himself. It wouldn’t help the situation, he knew, but damn if it wouldn’t make him feel better…probably…maybe.</p><p>“So, what do you know about the espada?” Isshin asked.</p><p>“When ya meeting the Seireitei shitheads? I ain’t spoutin’ this shit more’n once.”</p><p>Isshin looked at Ichigo then, a <em>how the hell does he know about this </em>look on his face.</p><p>“Meeting, what meeting?” <em>Oh, now I can speak? Is that how this works. Screw you all. </em></p><p>Ichigo just glared and shrugged at his father, who narrowed his gaze in a <em>why are you telling a complete stranger about meetings between kingdoms, you little shit.</em> Ichigo glared back, <em>fill in the context clues yourself you big hairy idiot. </em></p><p>Orihime, Tatsuki, Chad and Uryu had been quite since Ichigo and Grimmjow walked through the door, instead opting to watch the mess spill out across the floor. <em>They probably took bets, knowing them,</em> Ichigo thought, rolling his eyes at them. Orihime smiled cheekily at him, and he knew then they did just that. Uryu crossed his arms and huffed, a smug look plastered on his face that made Ichigo want to shave his head in his sleep. Chad stood next to Tatsuki by the top of the oven, meat sizzling in a cast iron pan. To her left on the counter was a basket full of eggs<em>. </em>  </p><p>“The day after tomorrow,” Isshin said, breaking Ichigo out of his head like one of the eggs in Tatsuki’s basket.</p><p>“Then I guess you’ll find out then.” Grimmjow answered him smugly, devilish grin that was apparently common in his arsenal of facial expressions spreading across his pale skin. The torches flickering on the wall made his skin appear slightly more tanned than Ichigo knew he was. <em>He’d look good with a tan,</em> Ichigo decided absently, watching between the two men, both of their hands still clasped together in a weird, violent handshake, if he could even call it that.</p><p>“And what if that’s not good enough.”</p><p>“Tough shit.”</p><p>Isshin laughed suddenly, dropping his hands clutching the other mans, and patted him roughly on the shoulder.  “Checkmate then.” <em>What? That’s it?</em> Ichigo had honestly expected a little more, to be honest. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some…scheduling to do.” Ichigo rolled his eyes. That was his code for taking a shit.</p><p>Grimmjow seemed just as confused as he let Isshin past him without a word, eyeing his back. Of the people in the room, Ichigo noticed finally, he, Grimmjow and his father had been in their pajamas. Everyone else was dressed in their usual attire. Uryu was in his usual white, Tatsuki and Orihime had an apron tide around them, Orihime was wearing a flowy yellow skirt and a blouse, where Tatsuki had opted for trousers and a similar top. Trying not to notice Chad slipping Orihime a coin, he pushed his hands through his unrly hair. </p><p>Orihime was shuffling around the oven as well now, wooden spoon in her hand, messing with a pan full of eggs. Ichigo made a mental note to leave that to Uryu to eat. The meat was done soon enough, juicy and crispy, making his stomach grumble. Plates were passed out with a hearty heft of eggs and three strips of meat. Grimmjow had unfortunately been given a palate of Orihime’s eggs. Ichigo watched in mute shock as he inhaled them all the same. <em>Did he not see how much pepper she put in them? Is he immune to pepper? Can people be immune to it?</em></p><p>“Why is he wearing one of the shirts I made for you without the sleeves?” Uryu asked, breaking him from his pepper thoughts. Ichigo looked to him pushing the eggs around on the plate, numerous dark flakes coating the soft yolk almost blocking out the entirety of the normal yellow. Ichigo frowned.</p><p>“Sleeves were too skinny for me to fit into.” Grimmjow said, shoving a whole strip of meat into his mouth. Orihime moved to take his plate and deposit more eggs on it. Ichigo looked Uryu; <em>that’s basically it,</em> his gaze said to the archer. He just sighed, and scooped a small spoonful into his mouth. Not two seconds later, he began sputtering and coughing, another two seconds and he was sneezing, sending his eggs flying across the table onto Ichigo’s face and plate. Ichigo threw his spoon at him.</p><p>“C’mon man, that was disgusting!”</p><p>“Tch. Pussy.”</p><p>Numerous sets of eyes turned to Grimmjow who was inhaling another plate of pepper laden eggs. Grimmjow’s gaze turned on Ichigo.</p><p>“Thought you said she was a bad cook.”</p><p><em>Note made, Grimmjow doesn’t have working taste buds.</em> Orihime clasped her hands together with stars in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to hug him; he looked like he might actually let her if she fed him some more. Ichigo narrowed his gaze on him subtly, a small spark of jealously burning behind his eyes. <em>Who exactly is he supposed to be pretend courting exactly,</em> he thought bitterly. Even Tatsuki’s eggs soured on his tongue suddenly, so he set his plate down and began wiping off Uryu’s gross egg accident while Orihime was cooing over having her eggs praised by the burly grouch.</p><p>“You mind taking his measurements? I don’t have anything that’ll fit’em, and I want at least one shirt with sleeves left,” Ichigo said, nodding to his blue-haired companion to the left of him, who was looking increasingly more relaxed as he realized the woman wasn’t going to do anything weird. Uryu noticed the glare, and didn’t appear to like the way Orihime was dancing around so close to the strange man who showed up only last night.</p><p>Uryu looked back at him, a mischievous look on his face. <em>I’m absolutely fucked. </em></p><p>“On one condition.”</p><p>Ichigo sighed. He was really going to regret this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Drowned in this ship before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ichigo has 99 problems and 98 of them are Grimmjow. The other problem would be the tailor trying to measure said 98 problems wrapped up in muscle and one of his pajama shirts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Put your hand that close to my dick again, and you’ll lose it,” Grimmjow growled out, swatting as Uryu, knelt down beside him, trying to measure him for appropriately fitting clothes. The way things were going, however, Ichigo would be losing half his wardrobe to the foul tempered man in front of him. He could already see half his shirts going up in blue smoke; what would become of his pants, he wasn’t sure.</p>
<p><em>Uryu’s got his waist measurements; he might make a skirt just to spite him.</em> Ichigo didn’t bother thinking the obvious, if that happened, he’d be cleaning up the aftereffects of a severely pissed off giant-hermit-man-beast. </p>
<p>He snorted as he tried to imagine the surly, muscular man in a flowing skirt. Orange would be a nice offset because of his hair and eyes, but Ichigo didn’t know if Uryu had any orange fabric. Uryu said once he disliked the color quite a bit, which, quite frankly, was insulting, as it was practically one of Ichigo’s personality traits now.</p>
<p>He couldn’t quite picture Grimmjow damsel enough to wear such a thing though, and shook his head. The look definitely wouldn’t suit him, and Ichigo <em>definitely</em> didn’t want to think about the guy like that. It wasn’t good for his head.</p>
<p>“For the last time, I told you I need your <em>inseam </em>measurements. Soul king knows I’m not trying to flirt with you, that’s <em>his</em> job,” an exasperated Uryu said, frustration clear in his tone, nodding his head towards Ichigo, sitting on a chair backwards, leaning his chin down on the back of it, arms extended lazily. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the comment but said nothing. It would just add fuel to the proverbial fire that was Grimmjow, who was looking more and more like he’d rather bet setting an <em>actual </em>fire, watching his fists curl and unclench, like he contemplated decking the tailor straight in his narrow nose.  </p>
<p>Grimmjow growled at the man instead, low and throaty, turning to face the archer in the little measuring circle, drawn in chalk on the floor. Ichigo figured it was for measuring giant skirts he’d read about once, but didn’t know why Uryu would need them. It’s not like anyone got all that dressed up around the castle, royalty or not.</p>
<p>The room was an organized mess if Ichigo had ever seen one. Different swatches of materials, some already cut into pieces were draped across a low table beside the long window. It looked like something that would fit Chad pretty easily, having probably the biggest, and tallest body of anyone else in the castle. Belatedly, he remembered seeing Chad in his favorite, yet hole worn green shirt. Just because he was a gentle giant, didn’t mean the animals were always gentle right back. One side of the room had wooden cubbies built into the wall, each one with a stack of fabric, neatly folded and color coded. Just looking at it gave Ichigo a headache.</p>
<p>“You hold it then, right at crotch height,” Uryu said to the man, breaking Ichigo’s concentration of the tailor’s tidy material mess. Grimmjow was standing in the chalk circle by the only completely messy thing in the room—the desk Uryu rarely used, instead opting to pile stuff on it.</p>
<p>Papers and doodles of designs it looked like, along with a pinned stack of names with varying numbers by it. Ichigo wondered briefly just where he kept the needles, as he didn’t see any as he swung his head around. <em>I sure as hell hope my foot doesn’t find one before my eyes do.</em> Ichigo watched as Grimmjow took the thin measuring tape, balled it up and tossed it behind him, landing next to a folded stack of black fabric.</p>
<p>Both men had been in Uryu’s little workshop for well over an hour, most of it spent <em>trying </em>and <em>failing</em> to get Grimmjow’s measurements. He swatted at, tried to bite, or otherwise made life generally more difficult than it really had to be, much like a feral animal that didn’t see the immediate difference in being helped and being hunted. Ichigo was thankful the guy didn’t have a knife or things would be even harder.</p>
<p>Uryu had already threatened him three times, the last one with the arrow directly to his face, poking his nose. That had calmed things down for all of…Ichigo counted on his fingers. <em>Fifteen seconds max.</em> The threats mostly just solidified the distrust and irritation, plain as day on the mans creased brow, furrowed low like a permanent etching to his face.</p>
<p>Ichigo bit back the retort, <em>If you make that face too much, it’ll stick, </em>more than once while in Uryu’s workroom, partly because it wouldn’t do anyone any good to make the man even angrier, but mostly because it seemed to have already done just that. The scowl and narrowed eyes never left completely, even when he focused his eyes elsewhere in the room for a few seconds, looking out one of two windows, or the different fabrics littered throughout the room.</p>
<p>“Come on, Grimmjow, you’re better than this,” Ichigo hissed out as he watched Grimmjow squish a livid Uryu’s face with one of his large hands after the tailor had tried to get the inseam measurement discreetly.</p>
<p>From his seat in the chair, which he wasn’t getting up from by the way, even if Uryu was getting man-handled by a recluse with boundary issues, Ichigo could see his face go red in anger, his jaw clench as much as it could while being smushed together by offending hands.</p>
<p>As he tried to pry the strong hand away from his face, Ichigo could’ve laughed at the sight of him putting one hand on the guy’s face and trying to push him away.</p>
<p>As expected of Grimmjow, he bit him, garnering more than a few curses from the tailor as he finally pried the hand off his face. <em>Uryu is going to kill him with a needle and a fabric swatch. </em> </p>
<p>“You don’t know jack shit about me,” he growled out, nostrils flaring at Ichigo and giving Uryu’s head a good shake before releasing him, snapping his fang-like teeth at him a couple times for good measure.</p>
<p> Uryu was standing at his full height now, trying to repair his hair into some semblance of order after Grimmjow had manhandled his face, backed up against his mess of a desk. He knocked a small stack of papers to the floor, cursing as they thudded on the wooden floorboards. Ichigo tried to hide a small snort of laughter, but Uryu heard it anyway, shooting a fiery glare directly at him as he knelt to pick them up.</p>
<p>“Why you little—”</p>
<p>“You’re a lot littler’n me, four eyes,” Grimmjow said cutting off the tailor, now out of the measuring circle and walking along the other side of the desk, next to the north window. Uryu was fuming, Ichigo noticed, another, different tape measure crumpled up in one fist, measurement paper in the other hand not faring much better, as he slammed the papers back down on the desk with a heavy <em>thud</em>.</p>
<p>“An’ there ain’t any part a’me that’s small,” Grimmjow finished, looking at Ichigo pointedly, expression mostly blank, minus the mischievous glint in his eyes. Ichigo dropped his face into his hands and groaned internally. <em>This was a mistake.</em></p>
<p>Why couldn’t the hermit living in a shack in the woods be like…some sweet old lady that called everyone she met <em>honey, </em>or <em>sugar, </em>like they were some kind of pastry, instead of the man before him, looking at him like he was either something to be beaten, or something to be eaten. Ichigo wasn’t sure which he’d prefer, if he was being honest with himself.</p>
<p>He could hear Uryu sputter around a minute before clearing his throat, as he understood the implication behind Grimmjow’s words, the vulgar beast. <em>He may have called me a prude earlier, but he’s got me beat by a mile,</em> Ichigo thought, shaking his head and rubbing the heels of his palms across his eyes before staring over at the guy.</p>
<p>Composing himself and pushing his glasses back up after they’d nearly slipped off his nose, he held out the tape to Ichigo, half defeated, half embarrassed, but mostly done with this shit.</p>
<p>“You get over here and do it then, since <em>he</em> won’t let me.” Uryu hissed as he refused to say Grimmjow’s name. By now, Ichigo was sure he’d make his clothing either two sizes to big, or one size too small, just to spite him. Ichigo lifted his face from his hands, face not too red, he hoped. He was getting more used to the guys…evocative innuendo’s. Ichigo knew he was just teasing him to get a reaction out, so if he stopped reacting, he’d stop the teasing, right? That’ show that was supposed to work, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>“What makes you think I’ll let <em>him</em> that close, huh?” Ichigo rolled his eyes then. <em>We slept in the same bed, you idiot,</em> he wanted to say, but bit his tongue.</p>
<p>Grimmjow was just being a dick for the hell of it now, he figured, but if there was one thing Ichigo thought he was good at, it was getting results. Sure, said results may be covered in leaves and dirt and kind of…bloodied, but he could definitely get results.</p>
<p>He stood up and walked to Uryu, who still had the tape balled up and clutched, white-knuckled between his thin fingers, like he was contemplating strangling the man who had become the recent bane of his existence.</p>
<p>“You slept in the same bed. Forgive me for making assumptions,” he said dryly, echoing Ichigo’s thoughts like he’d read them straight from his head, directing his glare to the blue haired man still leaning on the desk like it was his workspace. <em>How can he look like he just…belongs everywhere? Can someone be that self-assured? I still feel weird standing alone in my room.</em> Ichigo shook those thoughts away, a problem for later, he deemed.</p>
<p>“Gimmie the damn thing. What do you need next?” Ichigo said tugging on the tape dangling from long pale fingers.</p>
<p>“Thigh,” Uryu said, running a hand through his hair.</p>
<p><em>That bad, huh?</em> Uryu could play the uptight, high-strung card all he wanted, but he wasn’t usually this…irritable. And he’d <em>never</em> let Ichigo do the measuring before, even though he’d explained how to do it about four and a half thousand times, so it wasn’t like Ichigo didn’t know what to do.</p>
<p>Grimmjow was really having a negative effect on the guy; Ichigo almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Grimmjow actually <em>liking</em> Orihime’s cooking was probably the first and final nail in the coffin.</p>
<p>“Don’t touch me,” Grimmjow said as Ichigo moved closer to him, snapping the measuring tape once for good measure. The sun streaming through the west window indicated it was mid-afternoon.</p>
<p>After everyone had eaten breakfast, Ichigo had shown him around the castle. He feigned disinterest the whole time, but Ichgio saw how his eyes roamed around the corridors, when he peaked into rooms quickly, checking for weak spots, places for intruders to hide. Ichigo didn’t bother telling him he’d missed a couple spots, figured he’d probably go over everything a dozen more times before he felt even a little more at ease.</p>
<p>They made their way to Uryu next, in hopes Grimmjow wouldn’t destroy all of Ichigo’s wardrobe. He only had like four shirts he actually liked, and the maniac had already destroyed one of them. Not to mention using one of his more comfortable nightshirts as bandages still clinging to the skin around his abdomen. <em>What’s he hiding anyway? He doesn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body.</em></p>
<p>“Grimmjow.”  Ichigo chastised, as the man smacked his hand away from his leg. It felt more like taming a beast than trying to get a grown man’s measurements. Why did it have to be so hard? Why was he making it so hard?</p>
<p>“Why do you even need some of these?” Grimmjow asked. Well, it was more of a growl than a question, voice low and throaty, like the first time Ichigo had met him, when he’d been half out of his mind by that paralysis poison.</p>
<p>Uryu made a clicking noise with his tongue, drawing the man’s attention away enough for Ichigo to loop it around his thigh quickly and pull the ends together.  </p>
<p>“So you can have clothes that actually fit you, you blue-haired buffoon,” Uryu countered, hitting his hand with a pencil as the man grabbed at the measure Ichigo had worked around his thigh.</p>
<p>Grimmjow snarled between them, but gave in, momentarily at least.</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>“Thigh?”</p>
<p>“I can’t see, your shadow is in the way,” Ichigo grumbled. It was true, Uryu was right up in both of their businesses, making Ichigo an irritated sort of uncomfortable, and Grimmjow just uncomfortable. He heard him snort, quietly judging Ichigo’s bad eyesight even though <em>he</em> was the one who needed glasses.</p>
<p> Uryu jotted down a number in his little pervert notebook. Ichigo had saw his little measuring books before, they had weird genderless, naked people in them with lines, indicating where to measure as well as some of his own personal designs. He thought it was creepy as hell; Uryu got pissed at him once for doodling a face on one that Ichigo tried to make resemble his own.</p>
<p>Dropping the tape from the man’s thigh, Ichigo stood and waited further instructions like a good little assistant, thanks. Grimmjow’s arms were crossed again, the furrow in his brow deeper, if that was even possible. He hadn’t saw it disappear completely yet, and wondered if that was even possible.</p>
<p>Then again, Ichigo couldn’t have imagined the life he’d lived in the forest. <em>Maybe that’s why he’s so pissy about people touching him.</em> Glancing at the scar on his jaw, Ichigo thought that was probably right, and made a mental note to be a little more careful. If all the guy had was negative physical contact, of course he’d be a grouchy fucker.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sleeve next.” Uryu said, not looking up from his notes, instead walking over to a table full of little squares, each a different color and many different fabrics. Mostly wool and linen, though Ichigo could see some were obviously silk, dyed in bright, even garish colors he’d never want on his body. There were velvets too, but he tended to tuck those away, for whatever reason. Ichigo turned back to the insufferable man before him, determined to try and be a little nicer. Gentler even.</p>
<p>“Straighten your left arm,” Ichigo said, fiddling with the measuring tape in his fingers, trying to get the metal tabbed end, dropping it instead. Ichigo frowned.</p>
<p>“No.” Ichigo sighed, frown deepening slightly. <em>So much for patient and gentle.</em> This guy was going to bring out the worst in him, he knew.</p>
<p>“I’m absolutely smothering you tonight,” he muttered, unable to keep the comment to himself as he bent to pick up the tape. Grimmjow scoffed at him.</p>
<p>“Like I’d let that happen.” Before Ichigo could grab the tape, Grimmjow had put his bare foot on part of it. Ichigo was going to stab his foot, he knew he would. The needles had to be around somewhere. There was no other option at this point.  </p>
<p>“Why wait?” Uryu interrupted. “After this I need a neck measurement.” Grimmjow’s posture moved slightly, turning to the archer on the other side of the room, and Ichigo used the opportunity to snatch the tape back.</p>
<p>“Great.” Ichigo said, snapping the tape once as he stood, eyeing blue, as Grimmjow glared back at him with wide-eyed fury, taking a decided step back.</p>
<p>“For the love of all souls, I’m not going to strangle you,” Ichigo said, frustrated beyond all belief. Seriously, he’d been at it for…ten minutes maybe? How did Uryu put up with it for over an hour? Speaking of Uryu, he was standing back snickering, as he thumbed through a variety of fabrics. <em>For fuck’s sake.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two measurements and five bite wounds later, Ichigo had gotten the numbers to his asshole tailor. Was he ready to call it quits? Yes. Was he bleeding on the floor? Most definitely. Was Uryu on his shit list for the next two years? Absolutely.</p>
<p>“One more right? What is it?” Ichigo asked with a sigh. The end was in sight, then he could go to Orihime like he didn’t plan on doing earlier, but he felt blood dripping down his arm from a particularly feral bite wound. <em>Hopefully he doesn’t have any diseases. At least none that are fatal within the next couple hours.  </em></p>
<p>“His ass.”</p>
<p>“NO” Grimmjow and Ichigo said, simultaneously, both turning to face the white-clad man, irritation clear on Ichigo’s face at least. He wasn’t going to look at Grimmjow to see what one out of possibly three emotions were crossing his face.</p>
<p>Uryu sighed and set down his notebook on the table, stepping over a small pile of what looked like lace pooling on the floor. What did he even have that for? No-one he’d ever saw wore any lace.</p>
<p>“I have no idea why either of you are so reserved about this.” Uryu said, taking the tape from Ichigo’s limp fingers, pulling it around Grimmjow quickly before he could react too much, and drawing it tight.</p>
<p>He let it go slack a moment later, just as Grimmjow looked like he was going to turn his fangs on him, and walked back to the table, and jotting down a number on his little pad.</p>
<p>Grimmjow took a step towards him, eye twitching like the madman Ichigo suspected he actually was, and Uryu threw a fabric square without even looking at him, not making contact before Grimmjow grabbed it out of the air, balling it up in one hand before he unclenched his hand and started to actually examine the little square.  </p>
<p>“Your turn next, Ichigo.” Ichigo shifted his gaze towards him, a questioning look in his eyes. He didn’t recall asking if Uryu would make him anything. Besides, even if he did, he should already have his measurements, right? When was the last time he’d gotten measured anyway?</p>
<p>“What for?”</p>
<p>Uryu flipped his notebook a couple pages to reveal the drawings he’d made of the lewd leather corset with the flowy skirt and those weird stockings he’d only ever seen once in his old man’s medieval playboy book, and even then, he vowed never again. It looked like he’d re-designed a couple of things in what little spare time he had, the skirt now had hips deeply exposed, fabric bunching up in precise locations at the belt in the front of the design, small bits of…<em>so that’s what the lace is for. Aw fuck. </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow looked between the two with his face slightly scrunched up, not quite knowing what to do, until his gaze caught the leatherbound book between Uryu’s fingers, holding up the raunchy drawings like a pervert’s prize. Grimmjow pounced like a vulture to a wishful-dead carcass.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Ichigo said, turning and starting towards the door, if Grimmjow wanted to stay, that was his business, he could be Uryu’s feral problem now. Serves him right.</p>
<p>Grimmjow grabbed the notebook out of Uryu’s hands before he could stop him and scanned over the drawings, memorizing them apparently with how close his face was to the notebook. The little blue square was still in his hand as he clasped the book.</p>
<p>“Absolutely yes,” he said, grinning madly up at the tailor, the glint of a true demon in his eyes. Uryu almost matched his grin as their previous quarrels for the past hour seemed to have vanished. Almost.</p>
<p>Ichigo decided to cut his losses and walk (run) away as quickly as possible. They could bond over it, for all he cared, but he wasn’t wearing that horrible, disgusting, leather and lace--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do owe me, remember?” Uryu said, reminding him of their little conversation earlier.</p>
<p>Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks foot raised in a half step. <em>Damn my honor. </em></p>
<p>How long did it take Uryu to work with leather? He knew he complained about it a few times before, especially since he hated working with it. <em>Needles are big, leather is tough blah blah blah.</em> He preferred linen, even silk over the toughness of leather. Maybe he wouldn’t finish it. <em>That’s a pipe dream, Uryu finishes literally everything he’s ever done, but…</em></p>
<p>“This is literally your job,” Ichigo countered, but stepped into his little measuring circle nonetheless, knowing when he was beaten.</p>
<p>“Where do you find the time to make some of this shit.” Between fighting Grimmjow every step of the way for just about everything so far, and now this with Uryu, he felt exhaustion settle onto his shoulders like an old friend.</p>
<p>“You look tired, Ichigo.” Uryu said without remorse as his measuring tape wrapped around his neck, leaving his notebook in Grimmjow’s clawed grasp to leer at, unfortunately.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m tired. Tired of your shit,” Ichigo wheezed out as the tape tightened, cutting off his air supply for a brief moment. He heard Grimmjow snort to his left as he was basically assaulted with the tape measure.</p>
<p>Grimmjow was nosing around the room, touching the different fabrics in the cubicles in the wall like he was searching for something. Ichigo noticed he seemed particularly drawn to the darker blues and grays on the left side of the room, and he pulled out one bolt and began running a hand over it.</p>
<p>Uryu moved to his sleeve length, Ichigo’s body quite palpable at this point, not wanting to put up a fight against it. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave. He may actually leave Grimmjow with Uryu, since they were getting along so well now. <em>And by getting along, I mean not speaking.</em></p>
<p>“Those are in alphabetical order, Mr. Grimmjow, and I sew your skin to a chair if you mess that up,” Uryu said, making a liar out of Ichigo’s thoughts, not even bothering to look his way. <em>He must just sense someone is messing with his shit.</em> <em>Like a third eye, or something. </em></p>
<p>“Gonna pretend to know what that means.” Grimmjow pushed the bolt back where it belonged before he pulled out another, darker blue, shimmering slightly in the sunlight. From where Ichigo was standing, it looked soft. He watched as the tall man held up the little square Uryu had thrown at him a few minutes prior; it matched perfectly.</p>
<p>“Make that skirt thing outta this,” he ordered, holding up the bolt, pulling some loose so he could feel how it draped between his fingers. Ichigo paled at his words, it was one thing for Uryu to play dress up with him, but now <em>him?</em> <em>You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.</em></p>
<p>“Since when do you get a say in—"</p>
<p>“It would be slightly easier than the silk I was planning on using,” Uryu said, cutting him off, holding up a thoughtful finger, “It wouldn’t fray as bad at the end, definitely not as big of a pain in the ass to sew.” He held up another two fingers. “Velvet drapes nicely as well, and the design I made doesn’t have a lot of pieces.” Uryu looked to Grimmjow then, pleasant surprise written plainly across his face.</p>
<p>“Good idea Mr. Grimmjow.” Grimmjow very nearly gave him a smug grin until he caught the formality he hated so much for some reason.</p>
<p>“If you call me that one more time—”</p>
<p>“If you’re making that shit for me, make a corset for him.” Ichigo said suddenly, cutting off Grimmjow’s half-empty threat. If he was going to be miserable, he’d take Grimmjow down on the misery train ride down to hell with him. At least they’d be in good company.</p>
<p>“I don’t fuckin’ think—”</p>
<p>“Already planning on it.” Ichigo grinned at Uryu for a second before turning smug and looking to Grimmjow, who looked like he’d rather strangle him with the velvety blue fabric. At least it would be a soft way to go, better than wool at least.  Ichigo tried not to notice how the darker color looked against the man’s eyes and hair. It was almost as if…as if—</p>
<p>“When you boys are done playing,” a voice said suddenly, poking through the half-opened door, startling Ichigo from his not-so-pure-thoughts. He recognized the blond scraggly locks of hair meeting a little below his chin, green stripped hat settled on top of his head.</p>
<p>“I’d like to see this Mr. Grimmjow I’ve been hearing about. The king wants me to…evaluate him,” Urahara finished, offering up a smile that appeared innocent enough, but Ichigo knew was anything but. He straightened up and waltzed through the door to his own internal music, wooden shoes barely making a sound as his feet dusted across the floor. <em>Didn’t his feet ever get cold? I’ve never seen him in anything else.</em></p>
<p>“That’s a funny way of sayin’ interrogating.” Grimmjow said, shooting the man a look Ichigo agreed with—apparently he held his sentiment towards the smile.</p>
<p>“Ah so you must be the very one.” Urahara gave the man a quick, informal, bow, keeping a hand on his hat so it didn’t slip off, revealing what Ichigo hoped was a bald spot. He was determined to find out one day.  </p>
<p>“Anyone else here you don’t recognize?” Grimmjow’s reply was curt, but took a step forward towards him, regardless. Though it looked like he was going to turn teeth on him instead. Ichigo didn’t blame him much, he’d thought about doing the same quite a bit over the years, royal advisor or not. But his arm was probably coated in something sticky or foul-tasting, just in case.</p>
<p>“I’d like to have words with you, if you’re not busy at the moment.”</p>
<p>“I’ve gotta word for ya. Fuc—”</p>
<p>“He’s not busy,” Ichigo said, cutting him off. He figured something like this was coming sooner or later, especially now since his father knew Grimmjow would be wandering around the castle for the foreseeable future. Grimmjow shot him a look, half-betrayed, half-snarl, wholly pissed.</p>
<p>Urahara chuckled at the interaction, standing in the doorway, and motioned for Grimmjow to follow him, walking out without another word. Grimmjow glared briefly at the space he left behind, turned it on Ichigo, who simply shrugged, and followed the man. If the pajama pants had pockets, he would’ve shoved his hands in them.</p>
<p>Once Grimmjow left, Ichigo’s heart settled into a slower pace. He hadn’t realized there was an erratic drumming in his chest until he felt the pounding cease, his head space emptying like a gourd of water with a hole in it.</p>
<p>Uryu finished up quickly enough in silence, leaving Ichigo to wander around, picking up the bolt of fabric Grimmjow had carelessly left on the floor. It looked more like the man was messier than he’d assumed the more he hung out with him. Fabric between his arms, he did admit to himself, begrudgingly, like the herbal liquids he hated so much that were actually good for him even if they made him gag, that the fabric was luxuriously soft on his skin.</p>
<p>Not that he’d want to wear a damn skirt made out of the stuff. Shirt maybe, but skirt? Fuck that. He shouldered the bolt and stepped over to where the man had pulled it from, trying his best to put it back without messing up the system Uryu had in place.</p>
<p>“Are you really sure we can trust him?” Uryu said, dropping the tape on his little desk area, turning and sitting on the edge, being careful not to knock of the other stack of papers. <em>What did he even have all those papers for, anyway?</em> <em>I didn’t know tailors had paperwork.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo heaved a deep sigh at the question; it had been haunting him as well, even if he hadn’t been as vocal about it. Complaining about the guy, sure. But questions of trust? So far, unventured territory. Until now.</p>
<p>“I mean…he’s had plenty of opportunities to do me in,” Ichigo said with a shrug. It was true. They’d shared a <em>bed</em> for soul king’s sake. Ichigo had woke up <em>cuddling </em>the man. <em>And he hadn’t pushed me away, either.</em> But he didn’t voice any of that. He didn’t think Uryu could take much more, with the look he was giving Ichigo currently, eyes calm, but tired. Shoulders slouched slightly, there were dark circles under his eyes Ichigo didn’t notice until now, as the sunlight hit him just right. Illuminating pale skin, a stark contrast to the darkness below his eyes.  </p>
<p>“True. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Is he trustworthy?” Uryu’s gaze was fixed on his face, eyes piercing through his skull, looking through his mind for something, anything that could answer his question in a satisfactory manner.</p>
<p>Ichigo didn’t have much to offer him in that regards. He had feelings and gut instincts, but that wasn’t solid proof of trustworthiness, not for Uryu, at least.</p>
<p>The longer it took for Ichigo not to answer, the lower Uryu’s head became, until it was dropped completely, gaze broken as he looked at the floor, as if it instead could offer any answers. The floor must’ve disappointed him, in its dark floorboards, covered in ornate vermillion rugs, patterned in a gold repeating medallion motif. The rugs were silent until Uryu couldn’t stand it any longer.</p>
<p>“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly. Ichigo almost didn’t hear him, and it took a while to sink in, the weight of his words, like an anchor in his chest.  </p>
<p>“Hurt? What are you—”</p>
<p>“You slept in the same bed, Ichigo. He’s a <em>stranger,</em> and you slept in the same <em>bed.</em>”</p>
<p>Ichigo rubbed his temples, as he sat back down in the chair he’d been in while Uryu had tried to get Grimmjow’s measurements. <em>Not this shit again.</em> It was a never-ending battle between his father—one who wanted him to, Ichigo didn’t know, not be alone for the rest of his life even though he was twenty-three, still young by anyone’s terms—and Uryu, who apparently would prefer him to stay alone for the rest of his life? He knew there was a line somewhere between the two, but drawing wasn’t something he cared much for, and every line he’d made so far had been in sand, kicked away by careless footsteps.</p>
<p>He’d only known the guy for what…two, three days max? Everything was blurring together, and yeah, he was attractive but two days didn’t mean much. Or, at least he didn’t think so. Ichigo chalked most of it up to hormones. So far, the guy had mostly been a dick with a dick. Cut and dry. Some teasing sure, but Ichigo should’ve expected that with the whole ‘courting’ thing coming to light.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean anything.”</p>
<p>The look Uryu gave him could’ve frozen water in the middle of the desert. Ichigo shivered, but held his gaze firm, if he backed down now, he would have to tell him the truth, and right now. Ichigo just wanted to keep something, anything to himself.</p>
<p>“Ichigo, you don’t do anything halfway, everyone knows that.”</p>
<p><em>Damn,</em> <em>so much for that.</em></p>
<p>Having people knowing him so well was a blessing until it wasn’t. As his heart rate began to quicken, blood rushing to his face, his fingers started to tic, only slightly at first. He watched as his fingers moved on their own, in a flicking motion, middle finger nail digging into his thumb and forcing itself out, over and over again, eyes unblinking. Why did he trust the man as much as he did? There had to be a reason.</p>
<p>There were…possibilities, but nothing he wanted to think about presently. Sleeping in the same bed, waking up on the man’s warm chest, hearing his steady heartbeat beneath him.</p>
<p>The way his arms tightened as he had tried to pull away at first. Those markings underneath his eyes, highlighting different tints of blue flecking in his eyes.</p>
<p>And that <em>scar, </em>the crescent shaped one on his neck. How did that happen? Too many questions he hadn’t asked yet, too much he didn’t know but the one thing…the one thing he did know…</p>
<p>He could feel his muscles tighten, the knuckle in his hand tiring at the repetitive movement until Uryu put his hand on top of his, breaking Ichigo out of his stupor. His breathing had become shallow, he noticed, as Uryu patted his hand a couple times, a motion he rarely did anymore, didn’t need to, anyway. Focusing on his breathing, he sucked in air more steadily, soothing his heartbeat again.</p>
<p>Uryu knelt in front of him, eyes almost glassy in the light. The sun was sinking lower, it was probably at least the middle of the afternoon if not a little later.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what about him makes you trust him so easily,” Uryu said with a sigh, standing up, satisfied that Ichigo’s spell had passed quickly enough. Ichigo wasn’t so sure.</p>
<p>Ichigo’s sigh matched Uryu’s, leaning against a propped-up fist, face squished to one side. Sure, two days wasn’t a long time to know a person, but Grimmjow had already seen him at arguably his worst and most vulnerable within the span of a week and hadn’t bolted yet. Hell, with everything he’d seen, he <em>still</em> agreed to come to the castle, even though it was a half-assed plan at best. He still did it. Ichigo wasn’t sure what that meant, but to him, that equated at least a little bit of trust, especially with how…easily everything had gone to shit. Anyone else probably would’ve left, instead of flocking to it like a moth headfirst into a forest fire.</p>
<p>Grimmjow could’ve easily killed him, more than once, and didn’t. When he was drugged up, half hallucinating, one hundred percent soaking his furs and blankets in his sweat; it would’ve been easy.</p>
<p>Even when Ichigo may have deserved more than a few cuts and bruises with their last go-round in the forest, when he was half out of his mind with panic and renewed grief. It was a hell of a way to meet someone again. But for right now, he didn’t figure Uryu would believe any of that, so he said the next possible thing.</p>
<p>“I think he could be useful.” Ichigo said finally, voice raspy, looking in Uryu’s eyes, a small plea to drop the whole…trust thing. He snorted and rolled his eyes.  </p>
<p>“In what way exactly?” Ichigo’s face heated up at the implication. <em>Not him as well.</em></p>
<p>“In finding the espada you idiot.”</p>
<p>“Sure, sure.” Uryu walked away from the desk, and around him, back to the bolt of material Ichigo had tried to put carefully back in its place and kind of failed, pulling it out with an air of finality. He leaned it against the fabric table, and walked back over to his desk, shuffling around papers, throwing a couple carelessly to the floor in a manner uncharacteristic of the careful friend Ichigo knew.</p>
<p>“At least promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, stopping his rustling of papers, looking to Ichigo once more. His eyes were different this time, darker, the circles accentuated by the shadows falling over his face as he leaned over the desk.</p>
<p>“Uryu—”</p>
<p>“Promise me that, Ichigo. Your word is your law. Please.” Uryu’s face, often frowny and sarcastic, always ready with a biting comment, an irritated good-natured jab, was somber. With the grace of dying daylight, he ducked his head lower, Ichigo couldn’t see his mouth move, but heard the words, clear, across the room, echoing cavernous into his hollowed out chest. “I can’t lose you too.”</p>
<p>He remembered the grief they’d shared, how Uryu had confided in him when they were kids, barely teenagers when it happened.</p>
<p>Ryūken had been a difficult man to understand; Ichigo never saw him often, figured Uryu saw less, but remembered his face. White hair, narrow, pointed chin, and hard, cold eyes. Uryu had told him once, those eyes never changed, not even when they looked at him, not even when he was just a boy—thought he blamed him for the death of his mother.</p>
<p>She had gotten sick soon after he was born, Isshin had told Ichigo one night, after walking back from Uryu’s sullen room. Died in a matter of weeks—there wasn’t much that could be done, even with Urahara’s magic and potions. Death was inevitable to everyone, sooner or later.</p>
<p>It struck Ichigo that Uryu hadn’t healed either, not completely. This was just his way of coping—putting on the angry face and smothering them with questions like a mother hen protecting her chicks, something he’d never witnessed Ryūken do in his cold detachment. Ichigo stood slowly, eyes not leaving his friend, who had resumed shuffling the papers around on his desk absently; Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was trying to distract himself or actually looking for something. The tightening of his chest, a tell-tale sign of guilt raising its sails to the storm inside him, reminded him this was somehow his fault. He was bringing this on all of them, forcing memories into the front of their minds.</p>
<p>If he could keep his mouth shut, head down, maybe he could involve them as little as possible. They certainly didn’t need anymore heartache. This was his problem he’d stirred up—his problem to fix.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ichigo nodded, looking directly in his eyes, throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, I promise.”</p>
<p>Uryu nodded and dropped the subject, seeming as satisfied as he could be and stopped his paper milling, grabbing one and holding it up for Ichigo to see clearly.</p>
<p>It was a pattern.</p>
<p>For a skirt.</p>
<p>“Why you little—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------------------------------------------</p>
<p>Grimmjow followed the strangely calm man through the hallway, skin prickling slightly at being alone with him. He didn’t seem very trustworthy, no matter what his face did or said, but then again. Grimmjow didn’t trust. Period. Trusting meant admitting weakness. Trusting meant knowing you couldn’t handle things on your own and relying on the power of someone else. He didn’t need that kind of shit, didn’t want it. He had it once, a long time ago. That was enough for five lifetimes.</p>
<p>He’d play nice, as nice as he felt inclined, anyway, be a good little distraction for the obnoxious prince, get a few good meals out of it, a soft bed, all for the hope of killing Aizen, but trusting was out of the question.</p>
<p><em>I’d rather die than do that again,</em> he thought, ignoring the small bit of heat worming its way through his traitorous chest. Just because his body may want, didn’t mean his mind had to as well. His body could go get fucked.</p>
<p>He walked a few paces behind green and creepy, wooden shoes clacking softly on the wooden floor. They were on the second or third level of the castle, he’d figured, if the long view down the window was anything to go by.</p>
<p>Out of habit he ran his fingers over his wrists, right where his leather bracers should’ve been, if he wasn’t an idiot who’d forgotten them in a sleep haze earlier that morning, as Kurosaki drug him down to <em>meet the family.</em> He’d said something about having sisters while he showed him around the castle before the tailor had tried to get his grabby hands on him, the creep. If they were anything like their brother, he’d leave the castle and not look back, food and bed be damned. Once of him was bad enough. Three would be worse than any nightmare he’d had.</p>
<p>He stopped as the man went through a narrow doorway and vanished into the room. Kurosaki hadn’t shown him this particular area, for probably good reason, and he’d be damned if he was going to go in there with the wooden-shoed bastard. He was probably hiding a knife in some very…unsavory places.</p>
<p>“No need to worry Mr. Grimmjow, I only want to talk. It’s safe in here, I promise~” the man sing-songed out in an annoying, grating voice. <em>Talk my ass.</em> Grimmjow balked, making sure his feet were planted firmly on the floor. If he wanted to <em>talk,</em> he could damn well do it out in the open, not in some cramped, creepy-as-fuck room that probably smelled like burned flesh and old, dark magic. Hell no.</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’s going anywhere, Kiskue,” a voice said from behind him.</p>
<p>When had someone snuck up behind him? His hearing was excellent, stalked deer and other wild creatures with ease—<em>how could I not notice? </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow spun around, facing the voice—it sounded female. And it was. The woman stood before him, black cloak around her shoulders, dressed in equally dark clothing, belted around her waist, showing off a curvy, feminine figure. Purple hair offset by smooth dark skin, she took a cautious step towards him, but her gaze was relaxed, like she was getting ready to play, instead of ready to kill. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. <em>Two against one, huh? I like those odds.</em></p>
<p>He focused on a single hand, his right hand, and urged the dark magic in his blood out into the light. Fingertips clawing and elongating slightly, he ignored the sting of pain as he felt his bones moving to accommodate the shift, blackness spiraling up his arm until he stopped it mid-way, at his elbow, short black fur prickling along the way, like a velvet shield against his skin.</p>
<p>The man—Kiskue—whistled behind him, having come back out of the room slightly, leaning in the door way.</p>
<p>“Ah, that’s quite the curse you’ve got there.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow froze. He could tell by just a glance? <em>This must be the guy who did the enchantments on the horse, and everything else I feel in this damned castle. </em>That wasn’t good then. If this guy was as good as he figured, Grimmjow knew the fight was bound to be a bitch, and certainly not one in his favor, especially since the guy knew the layout of the castle better than Grimmjow ever would.</p>
<p>“You know about it?” There was really no point in denying it, since he could tell it was definitely a curse, brought on by that damned orb Aizen used on all his minions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d promised them all something, but that something never came. The only promise that…<em>thing</em> could give was blood and death. It’s all any of them were useful for, after everything happened. The promises had been empty, not that he had expected much else. For a while the shelter, his pack, the faux safety he’d sought, had been enough. Until they were cut down, black claws sinking deep into their bodies. They never stood a chance in the end. Not a single one.</p>
<p>They’d all be tossed to the side eventually, the rest of the espada, a pile of corpses at the end. He was lucky he got out when he did, even if all he had in return were scars and the bitter taste of blood brining his mouth. An old dream he’d never quite awaken from, even if it was years ago.</p>
<p>Flashing back in his memory for a split second, he saw pastel green hair, a scar across the bridge of a nose. <em>I wonder if she ever got out…</em></p>
<p>“I’d recognize the curse of that gem anywhere, call it a…side effect of being its creator.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow felt a twisting in his gut, like someone had shoved a hooked, serrated knife in and thrashed it around, tangling his internal organs up before ripping them out all knotted together, bloody pieces falling to the floor.  </p>
<p>“You—”</p>
<p>The backside of his tunic was ripped away before he could react, distracted by the revelation before him.</p>
<p>This man…this…Kiskue had created…that damned gem that caused…<em>everything</em>? <em>He was the reason…. </em></p>
<p>Black silken bandages torn across the floor by the black clad woman, exposing the mark on his back he couldn’t erase, even if he tried.</p>
<p>Curses were persistent, never yielding, and this one ached into his bones, every time he moved, he could <em>feel</em> it grind against his consciousness like a nightmare, lurking just beyond shallow shadows. </p>
<p>“Why don’t we take this elsewhere, <em>espada,”</em> the woman hissed quietly, all harsh eyes and dagger voice.</p>
<p>If looks could kill, he’d be bleeding, at the least.</p>
<p>The woman slid closer to him, silently, even though he could physically see her moving, there was no sound about her movements. <em>Assassin,</em> he guessed. A damn good one too.</p>
<p>“I figured as much. Our dear prince has a knack for picking out trouble,” the blond said from his place in the doorway easily.</p>
<p>
  <em>You could say that again. </em>
</p>
<p>Grimmjow remained silent however, shifting his gaze between the two of them. Kiskue hadn’t moved an inch for anything, but did make a motion for the man to follow him once again.</p>
<p>This time, against his instincts screaming at him to <em>shift and run damnit,</em> he followed into the room, woman trailing behind him, ready to strike if he did anything dumber than usual.</p>
<p>“Why don’t we make a deal, Mr. Espada,” Urahara said as the woman closed the door behind them both. The room was darker, lit by torches along the wall, casting a creepy, yet fitting glare across the room. Papers, vials filled with discolored liquids, lots of books.  </p>
<p>“Ex-espada,” he admitted quietly, the number on his back burning in the exposed air.</p>
<p>“I see,” Kiskue said, clicking his tongue in thought.</p>
<p>“Well then, Mr. <em>Ex</em>-Espada, why don’t we make a deal,” he continued, asking his question again, even though, to Grimmjow it sounded less like a question, and more like a threat.</p>
<p>“A deal?” His hand was still shifted with the dark magic, but it was beginning to burn more, aching to either be completed to disappear entirely, waiting for the black nights to run amuck uninhibited. His wrist told him he had at least three weeks before that time was due again, but his body wasn’t so sure.</p>
<p>“Unless of course you want us killing you right now,” the woman said, dagger in hand, the tip glinting in the torchlight. Her voice was playful again, a confusing juxtaposition by her actions.</p>
<p>Grimmjow didn’t like her at all, knew what that kind of smile meant. Her back was against the door, blocking any exit, unless he wanted to gut her. Something told him it wouldn’t be easy, woman or not.</p>
<p>“I’m listening,” he said, standing up straight once more, and crossing his arm. He did not however shift back, leaving his claws for protection. This wasn’t trust, he told himself. This was survival. He couldn’t die now, not when he was closer than he’d been in years to killing Aizen. What happened after, he didn’t give a shit. He’d lived plenty long, as far as he was concerned.   </p>
<p>“Tell us everything you know about the espada. And I do mean everything,” Kiskue started, leaning against a desk that rivaled the tailors in its mess.</p>
<p>Grimmjow scoffed.</p>
<p>“I ain’t spillin’ my guts like that lame brained prince of yours,” he spit out, glare sharp at the man in front of him. He seemed surprised at the statement, but his face moved back into quiet contemplation just as quickly as it came, a smile playing on his fuzzy face.</p>
<p>He needed to shave; even in the dimness of the room Grimmjow could tell he had blond fuzz on his chin, like a molding peach. Personally, he disliked facial hair, was glad he couldn’t grow any. It looked itchy and like a hassle to get rid of.</p>
<p>“Our prince must’ve trusted you quite a bit to admit anything at all to you,” he said, scratching his stubbly chin. “And if he really did ‘spill his guts’, as you so eloquently put it, he must’ve saw something in you he liked. He’s soundly tight-lipped with everyone else.”</p>
<p>“I’ve known him all of two days, shithead. Ain’t enough time to trust shit,” Grimmjow growled out, not bothering to hide his irritation. He didn’t want to hear about trust or anything of the sort ever again. If the prince couldn’t rely on himself, that was his own damn problem.</p>
<p>“Ah, but trust and time do not always go so hand in hand as many seem to think.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay then.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Cryptic bastard.</em> He didn’t realize he’d ordered a fortune cookie for whatever meal he’d eaten last, but whatever. He’d file that bit of information under <em>nonsense</em> and not save it for later, thanks.</p>
<p>“How about this,” he said holding up a single index finger, like it was the answer to all that ailed him.</p>
<p>He heard the woman shift against the door behind him and threw a glance over his shoulder, just to make sure she wasn’t getting ready to slit his throat out of sheer boredom. She stuck out her tongue at him before digging around in her ear.</p>
<p>“Answer our questions to the best of your abilities, and Ichigo will be none the wiser. What he doesn’t know, doesn’t have to hurt him.”</p>
<p><em>Why would that brat sway my decision any,</em> he thought bitterly, turning his face back to the weird man in front of him.</p>
<p>Two days wasn’t long enough to even <em>think</em> about the guy properly, let alone if it made a difference to him if Kurosaki knew anything or not. He was just some soft-headed idiot prince with a hero-complex if he’d ever saw one.</p>
<p>Kid had been given a goal and now he was dead focused on it, whether or not it was a good goal that wouldn’t end up getting him killed was another thing entirely. Besides, Grimmjow was pretty sure showing any amount of personal guilt around the guy would cause guilt by proxy. <em>He seems like the type.</em></p>
<p>And yeah, maybe he’d treated him like an actual person, and maybe his bed had been warm, but that was it. Kid’s head was full of the dullest rocks he’d ever seen; if he knew what he actually was, he’d turn that fancy little sword on him without a second thought.</p>
<p>He was just fun to play with is all, the prude. Even if his friends were weird and the bad cook wasn’t all that bad and the castle was a lot warmer than his shack. He wasn’t falling for that again. This was <em>use</em> and <em>be used</em> in return.</p>
<p>“Like I give a shit what you tell that moron.”</p>
<p>Urahara laughed, like he’d heard Grimmjow’s thoughts churn around in his head like the ocean tide.</p>
<p>“Ahh~~ I remember the days, right Yoruichi?” The woman behind him snorted.</p>
<p><em>Yoruichi? So this is the one who got the kid drunk on wine, huh?</em> Grimmjow filed that under, <em>ask about later</em>, if he wasn’t dead by then.</p>
<p>“I do unfortunately. You were insufferable. Still are, actually.”</p>
<p>“And yet here we are~” Grimmjow turned once more to look at the woman who had a pinky finger stuck up her nose digging for a treasure like it was her last night alive.</p>
<p>Yoruichi gave Kiskue a <em>look</em>, one Kurosaki made at him a couple times already. <em>Stop talking you idiot, </em>basically what it said.</p>
<p>“How about this then, Mr. Grimmjow,” Kiskue said, holding up another finger. He snarled at the formality. <em>If someone calls me ‘Mister’ one more time, I’m turning their body into a scratching post.</em>  </p>
<p>“Answer our questions, and I may very well be able to fix that curse of yours,” Kiskue said, standing before him, posture as relaxed as ever.</p>
<p>Grimmjow froze as the words tumbled from his mouth with ease, as if he hadn’t given him an easy out.</p>
<p>Like the pain of shifting, the constant ache in his bones, weary from bending, never breaking, growing, but never yielding, all of it, could just be gone.</p>
<p>“It won’t be easy of course, but since I created the gem,” he continued, snapping Grimmjow out of his spiraling thoughts, “I should, theoretically be able to break it. What do you say?”</p>
<p>He wanted to say that tools didn’t get options. They weren’t supposed too, didn’t need them. They were <em>useful</em> until they weren’t and discarded like trash later. That how it <em>worked.</em> How it worked with espada, anyway, and even though he was no longer a member, the number still charred his back, seared into his skin deeper than any curse. Tool first, person second, if anything remained.</p>
<p>Grimmjow wanted to say he’d agreed for the hell of it, as he accepted the deal, letting Urahara examine his shifted arm a little bit, fingers prodding along aching fingers, sharp claws. Feeling the soft velvet fur along his forearm prickle as he pressed an unrecognized, yet soothing, spell into his skin, easing the twinges of pain under his skin. He wasn’t doing this because he trusted the man. He—Kiskue—was <em>useful</em>, another tool in a different shed, one that could break and fix, destroy and put back together. Grimmjow knew the feeling well, of destruction, at the very least.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t trust, he decided, as the man pushed him out the door, citing needing to do some <em>research</em> on the subject without asking him a single question about the espada, his past, Aizen, anything, the woman throwing him some actual bandages for him to wrap his abdomen in before she shut the door. The whole trip seemed wasted, worthless, as he padded down the corridor barefoot, his footsteps barely making a sound on the cold wood.</p>
<p>It was curiosity.</p>
<p>Could it actually be done?</p>
<p>The man couldn’t possibly break the curse, it was part of him now—had too many years to sit and fester inside his body, rotting from the inside out. That’s why he stayed in the forest. It was safer there, and not just for him.</p>
<p>But he didn’t have much to lose at this point, save for his life. Even then, if it didn’t pan out, so long as he could kill Aizen first, he wouldn’t mind the long sleep. As long as his bones didn’t hurt with the strain of containment, with <em>survival</em>, maybe it wouldn’t be bad. He didn’t consider himself a stranger to death.</p>
<p>So he let curiosity guide him down to the dungeon-kitchen, hoping to find that healer woman, abdomen fully wrapped, arm shifted back to his normal skin, clawless fingers.</p>
<p>If his memory was correct, there were about four turns, three left and one right, before he could find that winding staircase, looping in on itself as it angled lower, deeper into the depths of the castle. If he didn’t know about the door leading directly outside, he would’ve sworn he was buried underground, like a corpse in a big, stone coffin.</p>
<p>He found the woman, Orihime was her full name, he thought, standing on a chair, reaching for something on top of a darkened cabinet. A pot was simmering with something fishy smelling on the stove top. Feeling his mouth water and stomach tighten, he moved forward on quiet feet.</p>
<p>“C’mere pretty girl~” the girl said, flexing her fingers at the darkness, at <em>nothing</em> as far as Grimmjow could tell.</p>
<p>He said nothing as he approached, peering into the pot quickly, he saw some weird leaves floating in it, along with some small, whole fish and a few vegetables.</p>
<p>He really didn’t understand what the fuss was about, the eggs tasted just fine to him. <em>Maybe that means I’m a worse cook than she is,</em> he pondered momentarily, watching as the girl jumped on the chair a little.</p>
<p>Hopping on it once more it, wobbled dangerously to the side and tipped.</p>
<p>She was wearing socks, he noticed as she tumbled down from her high perch, arms flailing.</p>
<p>
  <em>That’s why you slipped you stupid girl. </em>
</p>
<p>She barely even managed a scream before he stopped her from hitting the floor, hair hanging unceremoniously between her eyes, face smushed into the side of his bicep, arm jutting out uncomfortably between his right arm and side.</p>
<p>She looked at him wide eyed and confused before her face split into a warm smile. Grimmjow frowned at the sight.</p>
<p>“Oh thank you so much!” He considered dropping her for the hell of it, but then she’d never let him see that weird healing magic again.</p>
<p>“That would’ve hurt an awful lot if I’d hit my head against—”</p>
<p>“T’hell were you doin’?” He asked, setting her down and cutting off what he figured was a long-winded and useless explanation.</p>
<p>“Hmm? Oh, the cat is up there, and I was trying to get her down.” Orihime turned back towards the cabinet, and for an instant, Grimmjow thought she was going to get right back up on the chair and try again.</p>
<p>
  <em>Is everyone’s head in this damn place full of rocks?</em>
</p>
<p>“Maybe I can bribe her with some food,” she continued, walking over to the adjacent counter, where a few fish had been laid out and pulled out a small knife, cutting a small sliver of scaly flesh off, walking back over, holding it out between her fingers at the darkness.</p>
<p>“Come here kitty kitty~~~”</p>
<p>To say he was less than impressed was an understatement, and this was just distracting him from what he came there to ask anyway.</p>
<p>Watching her pathetic attempts of luring in the small fanged beast was pitiful at best, and a waste of his time. To his surprise a small black paw shot out of the darkness and snatched the fish morsel from between her fingers. <em>At least she wasn’t seeing things.</em></p>
<p>“Show me that white magic.”</p>
<p>He’d meant it more as a question, but it came out as a command, not used to asking for things before, not <em>needing</em> to. The girl stopped her pouting, having only gotten a slight scratch from the cat instead of it…throwing itself into her arms, thankful to be saved, he guessed.</p>
<p>Grimmjow realized the other woman, who was practically attached to this one’s hip the last time, was curiously absent. He swung his head around the room as he walked around her, peaking into the darkness of the pantry, and into the next room over with various barrels full of what he assumed was salted meat and picked vegetables, if the smell was anything to go by.</p>
<p>She hummed beside him, having snuck on him while he examined the room. Had she been alone down here the whole time with the door to the outside—he pulled and it opened easily, creaking on the hinges, and shut it—unlocked? Was she stupid? That’s how <em>he</em> got in. Did it not lock? Fiddling with the door slightly, he saw that it, in fact, did.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t bother locking it, not a lot of people know about it. Except you of course. And those of us who’re in here a lot. Oh, and there was the pair from the Seireitei…”</p>
<p>Grimmjow scrubbed his hands on his face as she continued, detailing how she’d walked into the room earlier in the week, after Kurosaki had gotten back only to find it occupied by two black-robbed emissaries from the neighboring kingdom. <em>Spies more like.</em> He decidedly locked the door and turned to her, arms crossed, having heard enough of her ridiculous explanation.</p>
<p>“Keep it locked from now on.” His tone must’ve been sharp enough to pierce through her thick skull and she nodded, eyes even bigger, if that were possible.</p>
<p>A meow jolted him from his thoughts as he felt something brush up against his leg. Looking down, he saw two green eyes peering back at him.</p>
<p>“There you are,” the woman said, picking up the cat, which hissed by the way, something he could relate to, and she peered at its tail, crooked and bent stiffly, painfully at a sharp, unnatural angle. “Oh no, what happened to your tail? Let me fix that for you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Plopping it down on the same table with the fish seemed like a mistake in Grimmjow’s book, but the girl just picked up the one she cut a piece from and set it down in front of the unhappy animal. It perked up immediately.</p>
<p>While the cat was distracted, the girl chanted a different incantation; Grimmjow watched with unveiled interest. The way her fingers moved into the triangle formation, index and thumbs meeting from both hands, forming almost a spade shape in the negative space between them. The last time, the words were different, wheat and wind, a gentle spell if he’d ever heard one.</p>
<p>Every one he knew was sharp and jagged, pointed and aiming to draw blood. The smallest amount of healing magic he knew couldn’t even compare to this. Hell, he felt it out, rather than learning any kind of recital of words.</p>
<p>This time was a simple couple of words, ones he didn’t understand as she uttered them. He watched as the crooked black tail straightened painlessly, the cat not even noticing as it bit into raw fish flesh, growling only when the girl’s hands got too close, green eyes slitting and narrowing.</p>
<p>“This one isn’t a spell anyone can learn,” the girl said, lowering her hands. The light remained around the cat for a time, before returning to her, shooting into little blue hairpins, at each side of her face, pinning loose hair back. Enchanted items perhaps? <em>Go figure.</em></p>
<p>“But the bakudo spell is, if you’re interested. Of course, you’d need to start off with easier spells.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow scoffed, rolling his eyes. What kind of idiot did she take him for anyway?</p>
<p>“Can you use any type of healing magic?” Her eyes were soft, voice gentle as she spoke to him, while simultaneously trying to pet the cat. It reared and gave her a scratch across the side of her hand, earning a small cry from the girl and a line of blood dripping down her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He held his hand out; the scratch was small enough he should be able to close it without any problems. If she’d just kept her hands to herself while an animal was eating, something he figured she’d never done in her life and wasn’t about to start, she wouldn’t be pouting, tears welling up in the corner of her doe eyes like a properly chastised child.</p>
<p>“Well, gimmie yer hand already, woman,” he grumbled at her. He felt his stomach rumble as he got a good whiff of the food, scent permeating the air. Whatever she was making, it smelled good. <em>Everyone else must be outta their minds.</em></p>
<p>She pouted a bit more, but relented, resting her small hand in the palm of Grimmjow’s large, rough one across the table. Focusing, he tried to push the magic out of his skin, the red sparks flickering between his fingers as he concentrated, brow furrowed. He felt her hand twitch slightly at the sensation as he pressed his thumb to the scratch on the side of her hand, dragging it across blood with intent and purpose; he could feel it close.</p>
<p>“You use a lot of force.” She examined her hand, seeing that the scratch really was gone, knitted back together with all the grace of a wildfire.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“What do you feel when you heal?” she was close, trying to examine his face, bending over the counter, the top of her breasts exposed by how far she was leaning over in the lower cut top. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and kept them on the ceiling, ignoring the woman in front of him. She wanted to talk about <em>feelings?</em> How was that even remotely useful?</p>
<p><em>Irritation mostly,</em> he wanted to tell her. If he had to waste magic to heal himself, he was almost always irritated, if not worse off.</p>
<p>“Healing magic is tied to emotion. At least,” she thumbed through her hair absently, leaning back, much to Grimmjow’s relief. The cat walked over closer to him, having eaten its fill of the fattened fish, and butted its head on his hand, which he’d set on the table top, drumming fingers irregularly. He glared at the small creature.</p>
<p>“At least, that’s how mine works. Mr. Urahara says that’s why I can use it so well.”</p>
<p>Great. If he wanted to learn how to heal better, he needed to get in touch with his <em>feminine </em>side? <em>Fuck that.</em></p>
<p>“You’re doing it as well, you know.”</p>
<p>Grimmjows eyes shot towards her, her eyes sharp and understanding. He didn’t figure she could look so serious with that soft face of hers.</p>
<p>“You use it out of anger, don’t you? That’s why yours is red.”</p>
<p>
  <em>That obvious, huh?</em>
</p>
<p>“Healing magic doesn’t have a distinct color of its own,” she started, walking over to the other whole fish, beginning to cut them into pieces. “It takes on color, depending on what the caster is feeling when they use it. The stronger, and more…pure, in a sense, the emotion is, the closer the color is to no color at all, or as you called it, white magic.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait, so is it white or nothing at all?</em>
</p>
<p>“The strongest magics period have no color really, but are like, really hard to use. I’ve only been able to do it a couple of times, and I was exhausted afterwards,” she continued, as if reading his thoughts directly.</p>
<p>Stopping her mangling of an already dead fish, she walked back over to the stove, wooden spoon grabbed from somewhere and began stirring the pot a little. Setting the spoon aside on a small ceramic dish, Orihime walked to the side of the room, where a couple of hooks hung, long, pattered strappy things. Reaching out, she grabbed the yellow one and put it around her head, and tied it behind her waist and neck, pulling out her long, obnoxious hair after she finished.</p>
<p>Grimmjow wasn’t watching her really, as she started to mess more with the un-chewed on fish. He was thinking—<em>she knew more than I thought she would. Will I even be able to use more potent healing spells if they’re linked to this emotional shit?</em> As useful as it would be, he didn’t think so.</p>
<p>Something soft ran against his arm, now leaned against the table, he’d been more taken by her words than he’d admit.</p>
<p>Aizen never told him this shit, <em>but why would he?</em> The less his espada knew, the better off. Their blades were supposed to be sharp, not their minds. Thankfully, Grimmjow prided himself on having both, even though he tended towards brawn.</p>
<p>
  <em>Intimidation’s a hellova lot more fun, anyway.</em>
</p>
<p>“Do you like fish?”</p>
<p>Her question jolted him out of his thoughts once more, and he looked down. The little black cat had put both paws on his arms, staring up at him, pure curiosity and fascination clear in its shining green eyes. Grimmjow frowned down at the small creature. <em>I wonder if it has a name.</em></p>
<p>“Yeah, why?”</p>
<p>Orihime smiled at him for the, what, hundredth time he’d been down here and began cutting up the other fish laid out in front of her into smaller chunks, being careful for the bones.</p>
<p>“Then I think you’ll like dinner.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow returned her grin. <em>Dinner</em> was something he could definitely get behind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay!! I’m particularly proud of this chapter; I’m trying really hard to add some depth to the characters instead of Ichigo being dopey and Grimmjow being grouchy of the seven dwarfs respectively…which may also be why it’s like 11000 words long but I digress. I’ll try to make the chapters a little more even in number, though if no-one minds, I will continue doing what I want lol. TBH might do that anyway.<br/>Also, would anyone want to see move POV shifts of different characters? I know I did Rukia a few chapters back, but have mainly stuck with Ichi/Grimm because…well…it’s a GrimmIchi fic, but lemme know your thoughts! I had a set number of chapters, but apparently I’ve got to drag everything out, so it might be a littler longer than I initially intended. (Whatever, I’m happy with it so far, mostly (I also went back and edited the 1st chapter a little. Tried to make it a little less…exposition-y) Thanks again for reading, I really, really appreciate it! This story is definitely a labor of love, and I appreciate any feedback! 😊 😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Falling Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things were getting ridiculous, and how long had Grimmjow been down in the kitchen with Orihime? What was he, her new best friend or something? Whatever. And while he was at it, could Isshin calm down for like...five minutes? It would make his life so much easier.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yay new POV for a bit! I tried for a faster pace this time so it's not basically one scene for 10,000 words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thanks again for saving me from a nasty fall earlier!” Orihime said, smiling once more at the man gobbling down food like he hadn’t eaten in years. She ladled out a bowl not two minutes ago and already, he had to be halfway done with it. <em>At least I know he wasn’t lying about liking fish. </em></p>
<p>He stopped momentarily, looking at her briefly, azure eyes a little wider than normal, or maybe they were opened to their normal size and he usually kind of squinted to make himself look mean and grouchy. She wasn’t sure. Nodding and turning back to his food, resuming eating like nothing had happened, Orihime smiled to herself. <em>I’d bet money on the second one. </em></p>
<p>For someone who tried to come off as abrasive and rude, he wasn’t doing the best job. From where she was standing, all she saw was a man who lived alone in the Forest of Souls for too many years, surviving by any means necessary. It looked obvious to her he wasn’t used being around people. <em>I can’t imagine how lonely that would be, doesn’t he have any friends?</em> She felt a little better knowing he wasn’t stuck in what Ichigo called a ‘little shit-hole shack’ anymore, or at least, he wouldn’t go back for a while, it seemed. The man looked like he could keep up with Ichigo pretty well, if earlier in the day was anything to go by. <em>So, if everything goes well, it should be a win-win for both of them, even though I think it already has somewhat…</em></p>
<p>“If I’d have gotten another knock to my skull, I think Tatsuki and Uryu would wrap me in silk and stuff me in a nice padded room!” She said, trying to break her memory of seeing them in bed together, face red she was certain. <em>That’s what I get for coming in when I knew it wasn’t Ichigo’s voice answering my knock—I should’ve known better, it wasn’t like Ichigo was going to put him anywhere else.</em> At least they hadn’t been naked at the time, not that she was lying about when she’d seen Ichigo naked. Yoruichi’s wine was beautifully made, if a little strong. That lady could drink until dawn and still not get tipsy, <em>Ichigo…not so much.</em></p>
<p>The man grunted in reply, clearly paying attention to food only. She frowned, but wasn’t deterred. More often than not, especially with a castle full of stoic-silent men, or those who <em>tried</em> to come off that way, she could easily make up for the both of them. <em>Well, maybe not his majesty…</em>. Regardless, she kept her mouth moving, the silence in the room not standing a chance. He didn’t seem to mind either, which spurred her onwards.</p>
<p>“At least the rain stopped; it’s always so gloomy when it rains. I want to set the garden out soon. I’ve got the seeds ready and everything!” And she’d found some really cool seeds at the market before winter arrived. Looking over at the man still scarfing down food, she watched how his hair hung limply over his eyes; it was a little long.</p>
<p><em>I could always see if he needs a haircut. </em>Chad was due for one soon, his hair hanging over both eyes, almost obstructing his vision entirely; Uryu worried about his own, even though he’d let her mess with it for fun a couple of times. Yuzu usually took care of Ichigo’s hair, much to his dismay. She was a much better cook than scissor-smith, even worse if Karin tried to…’help’. Grimmjow wiped his mouth, and Orihime stole a glance at his mostly bare chest.  The new scar stretching across his chest was offset slightly by the discolored crescent scar across his left shoulder and neck, like he’d been attacked by a scythe or some other strange weapon.</p>
<p><em>I wonder how he got that scar on his face,</em> she thought absently, chattering about the garden she was planning, sneaking glances at the man while she stirred the still warm stew. It may be closer to springtime, but soups and stews were an anytime all the time kind of food, <em>and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.</em></p>
<p>Scraping of a spoon against the wooden bowl broke her thoughts. Setting down the ladle on the little flower shaped ceramic dish she stepped over to him as he tipped the bowl back and swallowed the rest down like a beggar.</p>
<p>“Do you want some more? There’s plenty! Tatsuki will make something else a little later for those with lesser refined palates, like Ichigo,” she said, winking at him. If this guy liked her food, he was well on her way to being her new favorite…<em>Uryu notwithstanding…</em>. Grimmjow offered the barest hint of a smile, and gave her the bowl, pulling down the corners of his mouth quickly before he showed too much positive emotion, she figured. Orihime didn’t bother hiding her rolling eyes. <em>Men….</em></p>
<p>“Though he’s been known to eat my cooking too, if the mood strikes him.” <em>Or if he loses a bet with me, </em>she added to herself, filling it up to the brim and carefully walking back over, trying not to spill any on the floor. She was mostly successful, the spill not happening anywhere near her fingers, at least.</p>
<p>“And how’s that usually end?”</p>
<p>“Mmmm,” she put her forefinger against her chin, thinking. Remembering the pepper incident, she answered with a fond smile. “Usually with sneezing.”</p>
<p>“Tch. Weakling,” the man grumbled before shoveling in a mouthful of vegetables, wiping the dribble off his chin with the back of his hand. <em>He eats…kind of like a wild animal with slightly better manners. </em></p>
<p>Orihime giggled, and agreed, stepping back over to the stove and made a bowl for herself. It was still pretty hot as she stuck a spoonful into her mouth, in more ways than one. <em>Maybe I should’ve gone a little easier on the chili spices,</em> she thought as tears prickled the corners of her eyes.</p>
<p>“Where’s the other woman?” Grimmjow was looking at her with an arched eyebrow, judging her apparently for not being able to handle her own food. <em>I knew I should’ve measured that out,</em> she thought, wiping her eyes and sniffling.</p>
<p>“Hmmm? Oh, Tatsuki? She needed to talk to Shinji about something, I think. She’ll be back in an hour or so.” The answer seemed to pacify him enough to go back to eating and stop looking at her with the eyes of someone who was getting used to being a reluctant babysitter. <em>Experience, perhaps?</em></p>
<p>He did seem awfully concerned about locking the door earlier, she remembered. Even managing to fix the lock on the door with his fiddling. <em>I tried for two whole days but it wouldn’t budge for me. Darn my short fingers, </em>she thought with a pout, scooping in another mouthful of stew. Someone who was calloused and cruel wouldn’t save her from falling off a chair, scour the room for weak points, fix a lock on an old, worn out door, and round-about ask for healing lessons, she’d decided earlier. The cat liked him too, the fuzzy little stinker. She rubbed her hand, right where the misfit furball had scratched her.</p>
<p>Where Grimmjow healed her hand. It was shocking he’d been able to use healing magic at all, <em>and without any kind of incantation.</em> She had her hairpin enchantments, imbued with pieces of her own soul, or whatever Mr. Urahara had said. <em>If he could get past the whole…anger healing thing, he may be decent at it.</em> She figured with everything that happened within the past half hour or so, this Grimmjow stranger her prince and friend had snuck in the castle under the guise of courting, was a decent guy, deep down.   U<em>nderneath all that tough guy crap, anyway. He and Ichigo are a good match, I think,</em> she decided with a smile.  </p>
<p>“Oi, what’er you grinnin’ at woman?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Umm—”</p>
<p>The door swung open then, cutting off her answer, thankfully. Even after all that, it probably wasn’t best to spill all that out loud. At least, not yet. Ichigo stepped through, eyes glazed and tired, looking bone-exhausted, drained of all energy, shoulders stooped, arms hanging limply from his sides like they were barely attached. Seeing him like that made her ache, <em>I hope he’s just tired from a busy day, and not something else….</em> She remembered he’d said about getting measurements for clothes today, so Uryu probably put him through the wringer, knowing how protective he could be. <em>Honestly, the only people who were blind to how much those two actually care about each other are Ichigo and Uryu themselves, the goofballs.</em></p>
<p>“Ah, hey there,” he said lamely, looking at Grimmjow, shoulders relaxing slightly.</p>
<p>Orihime shook her head. Even from here, she could tell the prince had it bad already. <em>He’s always been bad at hiding all three of his emotions. </em>Though she figured the courting thing was probably just a way to get him inside the castle for other reasons, from her perspective, it certainly looked like Ichigo was developing…<em>something.</em> Whether he was aware of it or not, was another thing entirely. He had never been one who was obvious to…feelings.</p>
<p>The look on Ichigo’s face said he was kicking himself for sounding dumb, even though he’d only said three words, rubbing one arm like he didn’t know where to take it from there. Grimmjow nodded to him anyway, mouth full of food, looking a little awkward himself. No one said anything else.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh dear; they’re both hopeless. </em>
</p>
<p>“Hi Ichigo!” Orihime said cheerfully, waving from her position in front of the stove, to break her beloved prince out of his solemn expression. <em>Why does he always look so serious?</em> Looking down at her apron, trying to smooth out the wrinkles, she noticed a couple new stains. Scratching at her fabric and smelling her finger, it was juice from one of the vegetables. Carrot, probably. They did have an overabundance of carrots last year. <em>I wonder how the garden will do this year…</em></p>
<p>“Hi Orihime,” Ichigo said, returning her smile with a little less enthusiasm, but much more natural than his Grimmjow interaction. She nodded to the pot on the stove with her spoon, taking in another bite of her spicy fish stew. The second bite went down better.</p>
<p>“Are you hungry?”</p>
<p>Ichigo’s eyes widened a little, like refusal was on the tip of his tongue, as per usual. She arched her eyebrow at him, daring him to try it. It almost always worked when she made it a little like a challenge—he was never one to back down from one after all, the big goofball. He licked his lips, a tell-tale sign he was definitely hungry. She’d wager he may very accept her offer, even though chunks of fish were necessary a favorite. He liked the spicy fish roe Tatsuki was really good at making—<em>I always make it too spicy or it ends up tasting like chicken, for some reason….</em></p>
<p>“Sure, what did you make?” <em>Ten points for Orihime,</em> she thought with a half-hidden grin, ladling another helping out into a third wooden bowl. <em>He’ll catch on one of these days.</em></p>
<p>“Fish stew!” As she walked over to him, she noticed how he swallowed, anticipating the taste, but took it nonetheless. “It is a little spicy, though, so…” Ichigo eyed the bowl in his hands with caution, biting down on his lower lip slightly.</p>
<p>“If you don’t eat it, I will,” Grimmjow roughed out between mouthfuls. Ichigo glared at him across the table.</p>
<p>“Great. Thanks, Orihime,” he said, voice sounding tired more than strained, ignoring blue almost entirely, save for the dirty look. <em>He must be exhausted if he’s going to eat it no complaints. </em></p>
<p>Ichigo sat cattycorner to Grimmjow at the table, using the chairs like boring regular people instead of sitting on the table. <em>I don’t really understand, swinging your feet is so much more fun.</em> While they ate in relative silence, Orihime searched for the cat between mouthfuls. The vegetables were her favorite part, especially the carrots, so she made sure to steal as many of those as she could. <em>Kitty really seemed to like Mr. Grimmjow for some reason; if she likes him, he definitely can’t be that bad! </em></p>
<p>“Oh, Orihime,” Ichigo said, looking over at her. She spied the cat curled up next to Grimmjow’s bare feet. It looked like she was sleeping. <em>Oh dear, his feet must be freezing! I’ll have to say something to Uryu.</em></p>
<p>“Do you think you could fix this?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and showing her a dried, bloodied, arm. Cocking her head and looking at it closer, taking his arm between gentle hands, rubbing over his skin lightly, she could see…<em>are these…teeth marks…?</em></p>
<p>“What happened,” she asked, anticipating the answer had fully well something to do with the blue-haired man sucking down the rest of his second bowl of stew. She exhaled a silent spell and sent her spirit enchantments towards him before he could give his answer. The bite-marks closed quickly enough.</p>
<p>“Him,” he said, nodding to Grimmjow, scowl on his face, lips set in an almost pouty frown. Grimmjow snickered through his final mouthful.  <em>Bingo.</em></p>
<p>“Ah, I see. And will Mr. Grimmjow be staying with you tonight—”</p>
<p>She noticed how the man’s eyes narrowed on her as she used the formality, knowing fully well he didn’t like it, as well as Ichigo’s mouth dropping open like a dead fish’s, before the kitchen door swung open with the ferocity of someone not understanding how a swinging door worked.</p>
<p>“He absolutely will—” Isshin was cut off by the door slamming back in his face, having forgotten, <em>again</em>, that this door was a free-swinging.</p>
<p>“Not.” He continued, rubbing his bleeding nose and bruised pride, <em>if he has any left at this point,</em> Orihime thought, a small grin on her face, sending her healing spirits to him with another flick of her wrist. He pushed himself away from the door that attacked him without warning, glaring at it like it was the one at fault for his bleeding nose.</p>
<p>She didn’t bother hiding her giggle as Isshin grumbled and cursed as his son who had tears streaming down his face, arms clutching his sides, cackling out loud, boisterous laughter. <em>It’s good to hear him like that.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo had been acting…strange since he’d gotten back from the forest a few days ago. <em>Distracted,</em> she thought. Maybe it was Grimmjow’s doing? <em>He did say he ran into him then; did something happen? </em>And could that strange man really be trusted with the prince? Looking between them, Ichigo laughing still, head bowing to the table, and Grimmjow watching him in earnest, the barest hint of a smile upturning the corners of his lips, gaze softer than she’d seen it before, Orihime thought maybe he could. <em>Ichigo can definitely protect himself…even if he’s the last person he’s concerned about….</em></p>
<p>“Well boys, if you’re done laughing at my pain, I will show you to your rooms,” Isshin growled out, glaring at his son, waving the golden light away with his hand as if it were flies circling him instead, much to Orihime’s annoyance. She let one of the spirits bite him on the nose before fluttering back to her hairpin, smiling innocently at him when he side-eyed her, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>Ichigo stood, shaking out the last bit of laughter before following his irritated looking father, Grimmjow sliding off the seat and walking a few paces behind.</p>
<p>“Goodnight Ichigo, Mr. Grimmjow!” She called out to them, waving her hand slightly. Grimmjow turned briefly to shoot a glare, and she motioned for him to stop, earing a rolling of his eyes. Stepping forward, well aware that Ichigo had already left, hearing footsteps ascend the wooden staircase, she wrapped slender fingers around Grimmjow’s forearm, squeezing once against his warm skin.</p>
<p>“If you hurt Ichigo, I will reverse every wound you’ve ever had all at once,” she said, voice void of warmth, barely above a whisper, eyes sharp and hard. She couldn’t let the man off easy, even though he seemed okay. Even if Ichigo seemed to like him a lot more than he let on. She wouldn’t do that. <em>He has to know we’ll protect him at all costs, especially since he won’t protect himself. </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow’s eyes widened briefly, before he let out a small chuckle and turned around, slipping past her grip, middle finger in the air. “Also,” she hurried out, still whispering, not wanting Ichigo to hear their conversation, voice back to its bubbly normalcy. He stopped again and rolled his eyes. “If you want a healing lesson, meet me tomorrow afternoon down here.” He glanced over his shoulder once as he lowered his hand and nodded curtly before walking out the door, the cat right behind him, tail swishing back and forth like a traitor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Well, </em>she thought, looking around the now empty room. <em>I guess I’ve got to eat the rest of the stew myself.</em> She’d need the energy if Grimmjow took her up on her offer of a healing lesson. Or the other thing, for that matter. Re-opening closed wounds was quite a pain, but she learned it could be done, if her emotions were…unstable. Sighing, she walked back over to the stove to finish eating her bowl of food.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Orihime, may I borrow you for a moment? Ooohh something smells delightful in here!” Mr. Urahara said, leaning in the threshold, door resting on his hat. She turned to face him, smiling. He was another one who decidedly enjoyed her cooking. <em>Then again, he did say it reminded him of a potion experiment one time…I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not…</em></p>
<p>“Hmmm? Of course! Do you need something,” she asked, filling another bowl and handing it to him as he walked to meet her. He took a spoonful, blowing on it gently, before eating it.</p>
<p>“My, you’ve really outdone yourself this time! What all did you put in it?” He asked, taking another sip of the stew.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s just fish stew. I added some chili spices and chrysanthemum too, oh and—”</p>
<p>“Hey boss, that weird girl is stirring again,” a smaller, fiery headed boy said, poking his head through the doorway. He waved when he saw Orihime. Returning the gesture, Orihime began to take off her apron.</p>
<p>“There’s some stew in here for you to try, Jinta,” Mr. Urahara said as he sucked down another spoonful, ignoring the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. <em>He can’t handle strong spices at all, poor Yoruichi, that’s not going to be fun night,</em> she thought, as Jinta scuttled away, wary as always of her cooking. Orihime rolled her eyes at him, as Mr. Urahara yelled for him to come back.</p>
<p>“It’s about time for me to look at that little girl again, right? How is she doing?”</p>
<p>“Mmmm? Oh yes,” he said, turning back to her. “She’s stable, but still in and out of consciousness. Your healing is definitely helping,” he added, ridding his face of the ridiculous pout he was putting on at having been ignored by his ward-child…whatever he was. <em>He only eats what Miss Yuzu cooks anyway, so I’m not surprised.</em></p>
<p>“I’m glad,” she said, smiling at the man who was still eating even though it was clear he wasn’t a fan of the heat. Orihime shook her head—if he wanted to ruin his bowels, that wasn’t her problem. “I’ll go and see her now, be back in a while! Will you still be here?”</p>
<p>Mr. Urahara coughed into his robed elbow, setting the bowl down and going over to the bucket with cold, fresh water in it.</p>
<p>“Yes, I should still be here.”</p>
<p>She nodded and walked over to the door, but stopped before she went through. Surely, he’d seen and talked to Grimmjow already, right? Tightening her fingers around the doorframe she turned back to the advisor who always knew more than he let on. She had to know <em>more</em>, even if it was just a little bit.</p>
<p>“Mr. Urahara?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“Do you think…is Grimmjow…is he—”</p>
<p>“You needn’t worry yourself so much about him. Despite appearances, our prince is quite capable of taking care of himself,” Mr. Urahara said, glancing at her over his half-finished bowl of food. She frowned, unconvinced. That wasn’t the answer to the question she was going to ask, and he knew it. <em>Evasive man.</em></p>
<p>“Yes but…you know how Ichigo is.”</p>
<p>Urahara sighed, and set down the bowl, leaning against the table, not making any credible amount of eye contact.</p>
<p>“At this point, I don’t think Mr. Grimmjow poses a threat to our beloved prince.” He flicked his eyes to meet hers, a small smile on his face. “A nuisance for him perhaps, but not a threat.”</p>
<p>“That’s good then,” she said, nodding, feeling a little better. “Thank you very much,” she bowed to him slightly. “I’ll go to the little girl now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>------------------------</p>
<p>“So, this is the guy you <em>didn’t</em> tell us about, huh, <em>Ichi-nii.”</em> Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks at the tone in…<em>was that really Yuzu’s voice?</em> He was really hoping to avoid this confrontation with Grimmjow actually there, but fate was a cruel, cruel mistress, and he, her unlucky little bitch, apparently. He turned around to see both girls in pajamas, Karin glaring damn spears at this point, Yuzu had her arms crossed in front of her, pink chicken pajamas on full display. <em>She’s about as threatening as a baby duck.</em></p>
<p>“My beautiful babies!” Isshin said, arms outstretched and running towards them like an oblivious idiot. He heard Grimmjow snort beside him when Karin kicked him in the nuts hard enough to make Ichigo wince, crumpling up on the floor like a used, crusty, rag.  </p>
<p>“Daddy’s in a lot of pain now,” he whimpered lamely from the floor, hands between his crotch, Karin’s foot on his face, rolling it back and forth like she had a grudge with him personally. <em>She’s going to turn me into sashimi if she gets any angrier. </em></p>
<p>Casting a quick look at Grimmjow, he looked impressed more than anything. If Ichigo played it right, maybe he could save their hides. At least from Yuzu’s wrath, Karin was pretty much a lost cause, and short of blood, he didn’t figure she’d be happy with anything. And where the hell was his shirt anyway? How long had he been bare-chesting it out in the kitchen in front of Orihime? She had her sights set on Uryu, but sill, if the tailor caught wind of it…Ichigo rolled his eyes. <em>That</em> was a problem for another time. And when had he gotten actual bandages? <em>Whatever. Put out this fire before you start another one, Ichigo. </em></p>
<p>“Hey Yuzu, Karin. How are you? I haven’t seen you around to—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Oof.</em>
</p>
<p>He deserved that fist to his nose, he really did. Eyes watering, leaking a little down his face, holding his bleeding nose, he sighed at Karin. <em>Damnit Hiyori, what have you been teaching my sister? At least it wasn’t a boot with a damn brick in it.</em> Grimmjow just stood there, snickering to himself as Ichigo got assaulted by a scrawny little girl who came up to his chest. <em>If only he knew….</em></p>
<p>“Look, I didn’t want to say anything to you until I said something to him,” Ichigo said nasally, nodding to his father, crumbled up like a dirty dish-rag on the floor and holding his nose. The bleeding wasn’t too bad, but it still wasn’t great. Maybe this would satisfy her need for blood? He certainly hoped so.</p>
<p>His father groaned from the floor and tried to sit up, but Yuzu stepped over him, accidently stepping on his hand, earning a half yell, half sob from the man. At least she had the decency to look like she felt a <em>little</em> bad at it, before walking over to Ichigo and glaring at him, taking her place beside her twin.</p>
<p>“Feisty little twigs, ain’t ya?” Grimmjow said, chuckling lowly to his right. Karin glared at him before taking a step towards him. Yuzu was right behind her, also looking like she was ready to throw down with a stranger over twice her height and four times her weight. <em>He just…attracts angry women. I’d hate for him to meet Yoruichi,</em> he thought with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose harder and tilting his head back slightly. <em>Then again, </em>Ichigo thought, glancing once more at his half-bared chest, chiseled and well defined, <em>maybe he already has. </em></p>
<p>The glaring match continued, well, with each other anyway, Grimmjow wasn’t participating, being too entertained at drawing the ire of his two little sisters who were, compared to the hulking man beside Ichigo, inconsequentially small. A loud, needy meow sounded from directly below, pulling everyone’s attention to the little black cat that followed Chad back from the town a few weeks ago. <em>When did this little guy get up here? Did it follow Grimmjow?</em></p>
<p>He didn’t bother stifling a laugh as the cat tried to climb Grimmjow’s pantlegs, answering his question instantly. Grimmjow had gained a friend, much to the man’s apparent and obvious dismay.</p>
<p>Frowning at the little creature, the man grabbed it, plucking it free from the silken pants as one would an apple from a tree, minus the hissing, and held it up by the scruff of its neck. The cat meowed in his face, and tried to swat his nose, succeeding, until he wrenched his head away.</p>
<p>“You be nice to her,” Yuzu threatened. The cat tried to get his face again, but failed, being held far enough away this time. <em>First Zangetsu and now the cat?</em> <em>What’s up with this; maybe he was just the reluctant sorry soul that weird, desperate things flocked too. </em> </p>
<p>“This thing yours?” he asked, looking directly at Yuzu and raising a skinny blue eyebrow.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh shit, what does that say about me?</em>
</p>
<p>“Don’t change the subject!” Yuzu said, one hand curling up into a fist at her side, the other raising to point a nicely manicured finger at him. “And she’s not a <em>thing,</em> she’s a <em>cat.”</em> Grimmjow rolled his eyes, obvious amusement shining in them. Isshin was hobbling to his feet behind the girls, breathing rhythmically.<em> Good thing he’s already had his kids…</em></p>
<p>“I know what a cat is, kid,” Grimmjow said.</p>
<p>Without further warning, he took a step forward and plopped it directly into Yuzu’s hands, ruffling her hair up for good measure as he stepped around her. She squeaked and tried to swat at him, but the cat kept her busy, twisting and turning around in her arms like an angry rope with claws.</p>
<p>“You coming, old man?” he asked, walking past Isshin who was now staggering after him like he was still in a lot of pain, cracked nuts and all.</p>
<p>Karin watched the man retreat with a furrow in her brow, staring at Isshin limp-running after him, trying to direct him to his room with poor directional skills alone. Grimmjow steered close to Ichigo’s bedroom way down the corridor before Isshin caught up to him and physically guided him to another room further down. He smacked his hands away and said something Ichigo didn’t hear, causing Isshin to throw his arms up in what looked like a jazz hands formation, much to Ichigo’s embarrassment.</p>
<p>Breaking his gaze from the disaster that would most likely turn out to be, he turned to the train wreck in progress happening before him.</p>
<p>“So that’s Grimmjow,” he said sheepishly, between the girls. Karin was still obviously pissed as she crossed her arms and glared at him. The punch seemed to have helped though. <em>I’ve got to find a better outlet for her other than violence. </em></p>
<p> Yuzu, on the other hand, looked like she went from wanting to hit the man, to having stars and hearts in her eyes, pulling a weak groan from Ichigo.</p>
<p>
  <em>Looks like we have the same type. Great.</em>
</p>
<p>This was going to be a long, few weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>….</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, <em>finally,</em> he was in his bed. Clean and showered, a new, different pair of silken pajamas, sans shirt this time, covers pulled up around him and in the <em>middle</em> of the bed, right where he wanted to be.</p>
<p>Granted he was <em>alone</em> in his bed, his father having shooed Grimmjow into a room down the hall, presumably yakking the man’s ear off as he explained everything from how the castle worked, to wanting to know just <em>how</em> he’d met his dear son. <em>I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.</em></p>
<p><em>At least he didn’t ask where he slept last night,</em> Ichigo thought with a sigh. He’d never hear the end of it from him then, he suspected. But Ichigo couldn’t help but miss the presence a little bit. The warm body beneath him, arm wrapped around him, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere, like the man didn’t <em>want</em> him to go anywhere. It was…<em>. It was nice, even if he was teasing with the whole courting thing.</em></p>
<p>Since Isshin knew exactly why the man was here, there was no need to play that angle anymore. It was pointless. Grimmjow would tell everyone what he knew about the espada in two days’ time, and <em>maybe,</em> if Ichigo was lucky, he’d stick around and help them. Seemed more like the lone wolf type than relying on others for help, but Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder.</p>
<p>
  <em>It wouldn’t be so bad if he stayed though, right?</em>
</p>
<p>Torch lights flickered out an hour or so ago, letting moonlight crawl through the window, but since it had long since risen, he couldn’t see it, thankfully. Sometimes the light was too distracting. Sometimes, it wasn’t distracting enough.</p>
<p><em>So, after tomorrow there will be a meeting, huh?</em> He thought to the two strangers that popped into the kitchen, what…<em>two…three days ago?</em> Everything was starting to blur together, the days looking the same and different all at once. What were their names again? Renjo and Ruki? Something like that? Whatever. Maybe he’d see them again as well, he’d like to knock some sense into them for scaring Orihime…<em>even though she was more concerned about getting that bread recipe to the woman.</em></p>
<p>Shifting around on the plush of the bed, he turned his back to the door, and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes fall closed. <em>Hopefully I won’t have nightmares tonight,</em> he thought, running his hand alongside his sword, tucked into the folds of the covers beside him. The hilt was smooth, sheath cold, making his fingers twitch as he ran a couple fingers up and down its length, making sure it was still there and not a fragment of his imagination.</p>
<p>Ichigo laid there, listening to his breathing steady out, hand running along his sheathed sword, lulling himself to drowsiness when he heard the clicking of a door knob slowly opening. Feet stepping almost inaudible over stone floors, creeping closer to the bed where he lay, motionless and tense. Ichigo listened as the intruder crept closer, until a weight settled on the far edge of the bed.</p>
<p>Ichigo gripped the hilt of the sword between his fingers, unsheathing it in one smooth motion, aiming the tip directly at the throat of—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Paranoid much?” Grimmjow said, voice low and amused, if the tone was anything to go by. Blue eyes flashing in the dim light, holding the blade at its tip with his thumb and index finger, like he hadn’t just grabbed ahold of the sharp end of a sword in mid-air.</p>
<p> <em>How the hell does he do that with his eyes? And what’s he doing in here?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tch. Anyone I know,” Ichigo shot back, glaring at the man who was <em>still</em> not wearing a shirt proper, new bandages wrapping around his torso. Maybe his father had took a threat too far? Shifting in bed and pulling the blade from his fingertips, Ichigo thought probably not. Grimmjow would sooner slice him clean through, or try, at least, if Isshin even tried something that stupid. <em>He probably just bathed and changed them.</em>  </p>
<p>“It’s a survival skill. You’re not very sneaky.” Ichigo snorted at that.</p>
<p>“Oh, like you’re one to talk?”</p>
<p>“I can be, if I want to,” he countered, sitting fully now on the edge of the bed, not breaking eye contact with Ichigo for a second.</p>
<p>“Whatever. What do you want? It’s late.”</p>
<p>“Scoot over,” he said, maneuvering himself closer to Ichigo, who simultaneously blanched and blushed, heat rising to his otherwise colorless face.</p>
<p>“Why?” He didn’t scoot over as he asked, just watched as the man got closer, closer, until he threw back the covers gracelessly and slipped underneath them, settling himself beside Ichigo like he belonged there. The redness deepened over his face, he was sure, as it spread to his ears, neck, and throat. <em>This is definitely not the time for this.</em></p>
<p>“Safer if we sleep in the same space.”</p>
<p>“Is it really though?” Ichigo could feel the heat radiating from the man’s body—<em>souls,</em> he was so warm. The thought of sleeping next to a damn <em>fireplace</em> almost had him giving in without question. Almost.</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grimmjow’s voice was still low and rough, but he sounded tired too, like the day had worn a hole in him as well. <em>Probably Uryu. Urahara too.</em> <em>He’ll get used to them…maybe.</em></p>
<p>“You gonna bite me again?” Ichigo asked, eyeing the man beside him now, arms crossed once more behind his head as if it were actually <em>his</em> bed.</p>
<p>“Why, like it that much the first time?” The devilish look Grimmjow gave him made him swallow his retort all the way down to his intestines. Even, or maybe <em>especially</em> was the right word, in the moonlight, he gave off a look that screamed <em>predator.</em> Ichigo fought back a shiver. <em>He’s just teasing because he’s a jackass. A jackass with good hair and nice face…and a muscular body…damnit all. </em></p>
<p>Ichigo blushed and shifted around, turning his back to the man as he took the sword away from his side and propped it on the nightstand beside the bed and laid back down in the bed on his side, posture stiff and still. Like a log sleeping next to a fire.</p>
<p>He heard Grimmjow sigh behind him as he shifted, hot breath rushing past Ichigo’s neck on an exhale, forcing his skin to erupt in gooseflesh.</p>
<p>“Relax golden boy, it’s safer this way. Case of an ambush.” His tone was convincing, even if it was a ridiculous thing to say.</p>
<p>“This is a <em>castle</em>. We shouldn’t be ambushed inside it,” Ichigo said, ignoring the new nickname even though his eye twitched in irritation. Regardless, he relaxed into the mattress slightly, his shoulders and body a little less tense.</p>
<p>“Tch. You’re far too trusting,” the man said behind him, pressing his chest against Ichigo’s back, enough where he could feel bandages against his lower back. Ichigo resisted the urge to push into his warmth like a fool riding into a tar pit even though it was visible from a mile away.  </p>
<p>“Says the guy who couldn’t stand still to get his measurements taken.”</p>
<p>“Don’t like people getting too close.” He pressed harder, digging a couple fingers into the fabric at Ichigo’s hip.  </p>
<p>“We’re in the same bed. Again.” <em>And if you get any closer, you’re gonna be on top of me, idiot,</em> Ichigo added internally, rolling his eyes and swatting the hand away, trying to ignore how his fingers left a trail of molten skin in their wake.</p>
<p>“That’s different.”</p>
<p>“How?” Ichigo snorted. <em>He’s determined to push every button, wrong or not, huh? </em></p>
<p>“You’re supposed to be courtin’ me or whatever, right?” Grimmjow said into his ear. Ichigo could feel his hair brush up against the shell of his ear and fought to suppress a shiver. <em>I’m going to kill him. There’s no other choice at this point. </em>Ichigo huffed and pinched the top of his wandering hand, twisting the skin a little. Of course, he was going to bring that up. Ichigo knew no-one in the castle bought that nonsense for a second, especially not after this morning.</p>
<p><em>Everyone knows the truth now, why keep at it?</em> Just another way to drag him around, Ichigo figured. <em>Well fuck that—I’ll cut that chain right now. </em> </p>
<p>“You can drop that shit already. Go the fuck to sleep,” Ichigo said, elbowing him in the ribs before scooting away. He heard a chuckle behind him, but no more movement, thankfully. Ichigo’s eyes got tired again after a couple minutes of listening to the silence, eventually shutting them and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>…..</p>
<p>“…my own <em>son</em>. He doesn’t listen. Is he like that with you as well?”</p>
<p>Ichigo felt a rise in his pillow and a low vibration, almost a growl. <em>Oh shit, not again.</em> He almost dreaded looking up, knowing exactly what, or in this case, <em>who</em> he would find. And this pillow was <em>definitely</em> familiar, if the scarring under his cheek was anything to go by.  </p>
<p>“And don’t think you’re innocent for a second. I go and give you a room and here you are—”</p>
<p>Ichigo shifted his head towards the noise. It was his father, pacing back and forth in his room, sunlight once more filtering through the window, washing the room in soft, morning light. Isshin didn’t notice him move, too busy running his hands through his hair and pulling, walking back and forth, wearing a hole in the nice rug on the floor. <em>He’s gonna be bald by the time he’s done…</em></p>
<p>“In my son’s bed. The disrespect! The—” Isshin tripped over a stray book, losing his balance and tumbling to the floor with the grace of a dehydrated seal, flopping along a dry shore in search of water.</p>
<p>“How long has this been going on?” Ichigo muttered, not bothering to look at Grimmjow, who he <em>knew </em>he was laying on...again, a strong arm snaked around his waist. Taking a peek up at him, Ichigo could see the other arm behind his head, revealing blue in the dip in his arm.</p>
<p>He smelled like he’d bathed, skin a forest-y, musky smell. <em>He must’ve used some of the oils. It smells nice. </em>Ichigo wanted to press his head, his nose deeper into the crook of the bastard’s neck to get a good mix of the scented oils mixed with his own scent, but stopped that desire from fully forming with a hard slap in his imaginary face. <em>No! Bad Ichigo, we’ve talked about this. </em> </p>
<p>“’Bout twenty or so minutes give or take,” he muttered back, interrupting Ichigo’s scolding of himself. His arm was still tight around his waist, unrelenting in its hold.</p>
<p>“And <em>another </em>thing—”</p>
<p>“Let go of me,” Ichigo said quietly, wiggling around slightly when his father turned his back, off on another useless tangent neither of them bothered to listen to.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“It’s just making him worse.” Ichigo tried to glare up at him, but he could barely see his eyes over a jawline that sharp.</p>
<p>“I know.” Ichigo could hear the grin in his voice. All sharp teeth and adamant refusal to do as he was told. <em>Smug bastard.</em> <em>It’s like he’s not even trying.</em></p>
<p>Watching for when his father’s back was turned again, ranting about <em>decency</em> and <em>his sisters</em>, Ichigo pinched and twisted one of Grimmjow’s nipples, trying to get him to release him. The arm around his body tightened and pulled him closer to him as if on reflex, as Ichigo felt something stir beneath him, and it <em>definitely</em> wasn’t Grimmjow’s leg.</p>
<p><em>Fuck that was the opposite of what I wanted to happen,</em> he thought with a frown, heat creeping up his face. He felt the growl in Grimmjow’s chest, low and deep, a warning of…<em>something.</em> <em>Ohhh shit I’m not doing that again. </em>Pinch somewhere else, <em>noted,</em> he thought, attempting to slow down his rapid heart-beats as Grimmjow got better control of his body. Isshin was walking closer to them now, face set in a deep frown, finger pointed at them accusingly.</p>
<p>“Don’t think just because you’re cute you can get away with sleeping with my—”</p>
<p>“You think I’m cute, old man? I’m flattered, but you ain’t my type.” Grimmjow’s long fingers squeezed the flesh at Ichigo’s hip when he said that, causing him to tense ever so slightly, curling one hand in a tight fist. Ichigo imagined a biting right hook, sailing to his scarred jawline. It would be so refreshing.  </p>
<p>Grimmjow’s death flashed before his eyes as well, done in by the parental rage spilling off his nosey, overprotective father. He wouldn’t see it coming, and he could probably convince Karin to help him with very little bribery involved. Hell, the way she looked at him yesterday, she might pay Isshin just to help. <em>If Grimmjow could just keep his big mouth shut. </em></p>
<p>Ichigo finally pushed off Grimmjow, after a pinch to the underside of his raised arm, earning a jolt and hiss out of the man.</p>
<p>“Will you two give it a rest?” Ichigo said, glaring between the two of them and arranging himself so he was sitting at the side of the bed, feet planted on the floor firmly, away from Grimmjow’s wandering fingers, the pervert.</p>
<p>“I agree with our dear prince,” Urahara said, waltzing right on in without knocking. Ichigo hung his head in defeat, <em>privacy is a complete joke in this place, as if one scruffy faced man trying to parent me wasn’t enough. </em>He tapped his old man cane on the floor a couple times, and Ichigo looked at him. He was smiling, holding the fan in front of his face. Ichigo wanted nothing more than to throw a rock at him, but settled for murdering him in his mind. It helped a little. Maybe he could get Zangetsu to bite him the next time he looked over his enchantments. If he didn’t, Kon <em>definitely </em>would.  </p>
<p>“Aww, are we interrupting something?” Yoruichi said, right behind him, ponytail swishing behind her gracefully. As always, she was completely silent in her movements, half because she was barefoot, the other half because she was damn good at what she did.</p>
<p> Ichigo expected the rest of their little entourage to follow suit, but no-one else frolicked through the door like it was the place to be right now. <em>At least that’s one thing to be thankful for,</em> he thought bitterly as Grimmjow shuffled around behind him before swinging his legs down beside him about a foot away from their thighs touching. <em>I don’t see why it would matter now, dad already saw me laying on top of the guy, drooling on his chest.</em></p>
<p>“Are we having the meetings in here now? Is that what’s happening?” Ichigo asked dryly at the group staring at them. Two of them had big, concerning, smiles across their faces. One looked like he was about ready to combust like he had a cork stuffed in his ass.</p>
<p>“Of course not, we just wanted to see how you were doing, of course,” Urahara said, sweetness dripping from his voice like a honeycomb. Ichigo nearly gagged at the sound, but settled for scratching the base of his throat. <em>More like who I was doing…I need to lock my door.</em></p>
<p>“No, you’re being perverts, as per usual,” Ichigo said, putting his thoughts into a more PG form, rubbing the remaining sleep dust from his eyes. “How are you in charge of those kids again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jinta and Ururu had been at the castle since his sisters were little—Urahara had found them wandering around, half-starved in another town, and made him his wards. Jinta had been recently taking it upon himself to become the bane of Isshin’s existence, with his exclamations of undying love for Yuzu. They had grown close over the years, but not <em>that</em> close, if his father was any accurate record to go by. Ichigo rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>Recently, on one of his travels close to the northern mountains, Urahara had come back with another kid—a little girl. She’d been injured badly, would’ve succumbed to cold and blood loss had he not found and brought her back when he did. She’d been in and out of consciousness ever since, laying in a small bed in the castle’s personal infirmary. As far as Ichigo knew, she was the only one in there.</p>
<p>“They’re good playmates for your sisters at least~” Urahara said, waving his fan around Isshin’s face, garnering a half-snarl and, in Ichigo’s opinion, a well-deserved glare.</p>
<p>“Keep Jinta away from my Yuzu.”</p>
<p>“So you’ve asked.”</p>
<p>Ichigo watched the interaction pan out much like a stampede would, lots of dust and dirty looks. It wasn’t like Jinta was going to do anything, anyway, he had the nerve of a butterfly. Mostly he kept to peering around corners like a weirdo, thanks to Urahara’s creepy influence; he was just worse at it.</p>
<p>“I’m serious Kiskue.”</p>
<p>“You’ve said that as well.”</p>
<p>Yoruichi laughed, slapping both men on the back with a loud smack, jolting them both from their stiff positions. Ichigo noticed then that Grimmjow had shifted a little closer, their legs a couple inches apart now, elbow leaned against one knee, resting his head on his fist. Ichigo’s arms were crossed, still side-eying the exchange between the men, now both bickering at Yoruichi. Isshin was waving his arms in much the same manner as Urahara with his stupid little fan. Both were equally irritating.</p>
<p>“How’s that little kid you found?” Ichigo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yuzu checked on her pretty frequently; he wasn’t allowed to see her yet, for some reason.</p>
<p>“Ah, she’s a tough one. She doesn’t care for men much,” Urahara said glancing over at the pair, gaze flicking back and forth between the men, noticing their distance, gray eyes lighting up with mischief as he did so. Ichigo’s stomach did a flip uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“Explains why I haven’t seen her.”</p>
<p>“That and she has a pretty substantial head wound,” Yoruichi said, walking towards the pair and squeezing herself in between the two, one ass-cheek on each leg, throwing her arms around a shoulder and bringing them closer, either head in a half-headlock, since she was also certifiably insane.</p>
<p>Grimmjow struggled for a moment before the horrible woman looked at him; she must’ve had some weird look in her eyes before he stopped for a bit, resigned scowl deep on his face. <em>Damn, where was she yesterday? </em>Still, Grimmjow being more pliant with her than he’d been with Ichigo yet, set a bitter coil aflame in his gut. Flipping her head back to his side, she noticed how Ichigo was glaring at her, and yanked on his ear, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Is she doing better? I hear you’ve got Orihime looking after her,” Isshin said, turning fully to Urahara at that point, ignoring the assassin assaulting his son right in front of him.</p>
<p>Yoruichi pulled at his ear again as Ichigo snared at her, her fingernails digging into the thin flesh at the top of his ear.</p>
<p>“Will you stop it, you lunatic,” he growled out, glaring at her.</p>
<p>“Yes, with Miss Inoue’s help, the little one is well on her way to recovery.” Urahara said, not bothering to stifle a laugh at the trio.</p>
<p>“Aww, what’s the matter I-chi-go? Feeling ignored?” she purred out, scratching the space behind his ear with a pointed fingernail. Ichigo tensed. She <em>knew</em> he hated that.</p>
<p>“Try rubbing behind his ears a little with a couple fingers,” Yoruichi said, leaning over towards Grimmjow. “He <em>really</em> likes it.” Ichigo swatted at her hand, but she was up in a flash, ponytail hitting both men across the face as she did so. Walking backwards to the King and his advisor, she winked at Grimmjow, playful smile peeking the corners of her lips back.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m going to die. </em>
</p>
<p>“You keep your lecherous advice to yourself, you demon. I don’t need my girls hearing you!” Isshin cried, voice squawking not unlike a sick birds’ at Yoruichi’s suggestion. <em>So that’s what he’s so worried about.</em> Grimmjow shifted even closer, closing the gap between their legs, thighs flush together, as well as their arms. Urahara laughed as Isshin groaned, running a hand across his exasperated face.</p>
<p><em>This is going even worse than expected, if that’s even possible,</em> Ichigo thought as the group turned to themselves in a private conversation. Ichigo felt something move at his back.</p>
<p>“If you touch me, I’m going to cut you in half,” he said quietly, not looking at the man beside him.</p>
<p>“Tch, that didn’t work the first time you tried,” Grimmjow said, but dropped his hand in favor of trying to listen to the conversation in front of them. Ichigo ignored the disappointment in his gut at him actually listening the first time. <em>What’s that all about?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are the preparations ready for the meeting?” Isshin nodded, his face deep in concentration, even though his skull was pretty empty most of the time, Ichigo figured, as he watched his brows furrow. <em>Must be exhausting trying to use that much brainpower to have a single thought.  </em></p>
<p>“Mostly, yes,” he said. “It’s just waiting for them to arrive now.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I see. You were never a patient man, if memory serves me correct.” Urahara waved the fan in front of his face. Yoruichi cackled at his right, leaning off his shoulder, scratching her leg with a bare foot, her nails were painted black, Ichigo noticed.</p>
<p>“Guys,” Ichigo said, trying to get their attention. <em>Seriously, can’t they talk business somewhere else? I wanna get changed.</em></p>
<p>“Stuffy buncha pricks if you ask me; I didn’t get so see the first two that showed up here since <em>somebody</em> made me go to the east,” Yoruichi said, kicking Urahara slightly. “Maybe they’ll send someone fun this time.”</p>
<p>“Fun? You’re an <em>assassin</em>, this isn’t supposed to be <em>fun.”</em> Isshin said, stressing all the right syllables. Ichigo felt a hand creeping up his back, not touching him but very, very close.</p>
<p>“This a meeting with representatives of the Seireitei; Old Man Yamamoto may be here as well, there’s nothing <em>fun</em> about all day meetings,” Isshin continued to grumble, crossing his arms again, looking between Urahara and Yoruichi. Ichigo felt a nail dig in to his back, right between his shoulder blades. <em>What the hell are you doing now?</em></p>
<p>“Guys” Ichigo said a little louder, shifting slightly out of reach of his annoying bed-partner-person-whatever the hell he was. He heard Grimmjow chuckle beside him, the skin of his arm warm. <em>I hate this so much.</em></p>
<p>“If I don’t have a challenge once and a while, I get bored. Can you really blame me?” Yoruichi said, twisting the ends of her ponytail around one slender finger before letting it flow back down her back.</p>
<p>“Maybe they’ll send someone hot.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Urahara who simply shook his head and snapped his fan shut.  </p>
<p>“I’m right here, dear,” he added, arm outstretched and inviting. <em>Souls, these two are confusing as hell.</em></p>
<p>“You’re an old geezer, Kiskue.” Urahara pretended to faint in mock offence, his back pressing against her side like gravity had been turned off suddenly. She kicked him in the shin and he stopped, pouting.</p>
<p>“Guys!” Ichigo yelled out, finally getting their attention as all eyes (and frowny faces) turned to him, like they were offended he interrupted them.</p>
<p>“If you’re going do this now, can’t you talk somewhere else?”</p>
<p>“Why?” Isshin asked, narrowing his eyes, flicking them to Grimmjow once. <em>This is almost worse than him ignoring me, the bastard. </em></p>
<p>“So I can get dressed,” Ichigo said, motioning to his unclothed chest, like it was supposed to be obvious. He wanted to wear actual clothes today, not just thin pajama pants that sucked out every ounce of body heat he had.</p>
<p>Isshin stared at him for a bit longer before conceding, arms dropping down by his sides.</p>
<p>“Fine. Blue, go to your room. There should be something that’ll fit you in there until Uryu can get though making something more…appropriate. I’ll take you to the stables after you’re done. You,” he said, looking at Ichigo, eyes narrowed and suspicious. “You meet us down there.” Ichigo rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with him right now. <em>I’ll pick my battles, old man. And what the hell did you mean more appropriate?</em> Ichigo thought, looking between the two men. <em>What the hell is in there?</em></p>
<p>Ichigo almost chuckled at the thought; well, that, and it sounded like his father was trying to ground a grown man. The others must’ve agreed as well, staring at them in amusement as Isshin walked towards him. Ichigo heard him growl once before pushing off the bed and shouldering past him roughly, glaring at Isshin as he followed right behind, until they were out the door and gone completely. Urahara and Yoruichi laughed as they left, not bothering to shut the door behind them. Ichigo held his head, headache already oncoming, in his hands.</p>
<p><em>This is going to be a long day.</em>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>……………..</p>
<p>“What are you two doing back here?” Ichigo asked as two barely familiar faces stared at him as he opened the stable doors. Grimmjow and his father were late, but that wasn’t unusual where Isshin was concerned. <em>He’d be late to his own funeral</em>.</p>
<p>The two spies from the Seireitei were watching him as he walked closer and stopped in front of them. The man with spikey red hair and weird eyebrows cocked a disinterested eyebrow at him and the woman bowed politely.</p>
<p>Kon, standing beside the pair, a big, yellow stallion, not quite Zangetsu’s size, huffed, his large snout blowing into the woman’s hair and messing it up in dark tangles. She squeaked; her noble, stony-faced expression cut off by an indignant, over-emphasized pout as she gently, but firmly pushed him away. Ichigo snored at the expression, as did the red-head.</p>
<p>“This guy was a pain in the ass,” the man said, thumb jutting to the horse’s direction. “Thought he was gonna buck me off the whole damn time.”</p>
<p>“Renji, this is <em>the prince,</em>” she hissed, slamming an arm into the man’s—Renji’s—stomach, causing him to lurch at the hit, a surprised cough erupting from him.</p>
<p>Ichigo laughed at that, not bothering to cover his mouth as he watched the two bicker like children. That was just like his father—lending them Kon, the lover of any and every female in the castle. He’d let Chad ride him of course, because it’s Chad, and Ichigo could manage…sometimes. He was better for short bursts or just riding around the castle grounds. Long distances made him tired and cranky; Ichigo learned that the hard way.</p>
<p><em>I</em> <em>wonder how Renji was able to ride him.</em></p>
<p>The needy bastard would let Orihime sleep on him, well, probably any woman of the castle, but he really liked Orihime. Yuzu adored him, and Kon would allow her to braid his mane every once and a while. Especially if she had enough sugar cubes and apples at hand. That was the only time Zangetsu would refuse a treat, if he had a feeling that’s what Yuzu wanted to do.</p>
<p>“Please, you can call me Ichigo.” Maybe these two wouldn’t be so bad. Kon seemed to really like the woman…<em>Rukia! That was her name…I think….</em> Kon huffed in Rukia’s hair again and she begrudgingly patted his neck and scratched his ear before pushing his face away again.</p>
<p>“Is this everyone coming to the meeting?” he asked, looking around the enclosed stable. How did they even get in here? Did Chad let them go and just…walk away? That didn’t seem like him, but then again, they probably knew where it was since they most likely had to drag Kon out of it in the first place.</p>
<p>“They’ll be arriving tomorrow,” Renji said, standing up straight and trying to pat the horse as well, earning a nip in the air from him. He scowled at the beast, tattooed eyebrows furrowing, creasing his brow.</p>
<p>“I see,” Ichigo said, stepping forward and grabbing ahold of Kon’s reigns, meaning to lead him back to his enclosure, but Kon being stubborn, pulled back, shifting his big head away, tightening the reins. Ichigo dug his heels in the dirt floor.</p>
<p>“Come on, Kon. I’ll give you some hay and oats if you just go in easy,” Ichigo said, straining under the pull of the obnoxious horse. He could hear Rukia stifle a laugh, as his face heated. What kind of prince couldn’t control his own horse? <em>Where’s Orihime when I need her?</em></p>
<p>“Maybe I should do it? He seemed to like me quite a bit,” the woman offered, still chuckling, holding out her hand. Ichigo glared at her hand and then back at the horse.</p>
<p>“No, it’s okay. I got—”</p>
<p>“Who the hell’re you two,” Ichigo heard, growled out from behind him, where the door to the stable was, voice low and rough. <em>Oh shit, he doesn’t know these guys yet.</em></p>
<p>Kon immediately relaxed and stopped pulling, which Ichigo wasn’t ready for, considering he fell backwards straight on his ass, flat on his back, ignoring the laughter of the two Seireitei dickheads in front of him. Heat flooded his face, embarrassed and angry at himself. And Kon. Mostly Kon, the damn horse. <em>Why can’t we have any normal horses?</em></p>
<p>But from his position he could see Grimmjow, gazing at him, blue eyes almost glowing, teal marks swept under his eyes bright. Turning over and looking at him when his face was right side up, Ichigo tensed, eyes wide, heat pooling in his gut suddenly.</p>
<p>
  <em>What the hell is he wearing?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Going back to work after the holidays is so hard lol<br/>Did anyone else use to handwrite their stories or was that just me? I don't do it now because I grew a brain, but maaaannn; I can't imagine doing that anymore. I wouldn't have a hand left! </p>
<p>Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Intent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rukia and Renji arrive back at the Seireitei wet, cold, and late, where they give what little information they received to their less-than-thrilled captain. They only get a day's rest before they are back on the saddle to Karakura, where Ichigo finds them. The blue-haired man is a new, interesting face they haven't seen before.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I drug my feet on this chapter a little bit, so I hope it was worth the wait—it’s a little shorter too because what is consistency even? I hope it doesn’t feel too rushed. I sat on it a couple days and messed around with other ideas to let this one rest. At least we’re going to get more characters introduced soon! Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“You are late,” Captain Kuchiki said stoically, not bothering to turn and look at them, or their rain-soaked selves, dripping steadily onto the floor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was in his office doing some kind of paperwork, or he was, until the pair barged in, Rukia almost knocking a vase off a small table, Renji slipping on the wooden floor, landing face first in front of the captain’s desk with grace of a bag of drowned spiders. Byakuya sighed deeply and stood, turning towards the window. They were late by almost four hours; night had fallen across the land. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Renji and Rukia bowed low, their foreheads touching the tatami, creating a wet puddle underneath them, soaking into the floor, much to the captain’s obvious dismay, if the scowl was anything to go by. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, my brother,” Rukia said, her voice bitter and regretful. ‘How could I do this to nii-sama? He was counting on us. That damned horse….’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I will take whatever punishment you see fit.” She swallowed down her guilt; this was all her fault...mostly. “But, we do come with good news,” she continued, not daring to turn her face to look upon her brother and captain. She could feel the cold of the rain soaked waraji seep into her white tabi, all the way up the ankle. Fighting to suppress a shiver, she glanced over at Renji, who was also drenched and bowing, his fists placed flat on the floorboards next to his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I see.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He did not say what he saw, but knowing him, it was probably a great deal, even without them having said a thing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Captian Kutchki, the prince is safe,” Renji said, raising his head and knocking her from her stupor. The water had gathered around her palms, creating a cold puddle around her hands; if she focused enough magic, she could freeze it, so it wouldn’t ruin the floor completely.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And more importantly, the Ruler of Karakura would like to open up his castle to Sovereignty discourse.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘That’s a fancy word,’ Rukia thought, rolling her eyes at her partner. ‘Try not to use all of your brain for a single thought.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Daring a glance to their captain, who so far, had said nothing other than announcing their obvious, and disrespectful tardiness. He was looking at them as well, his eyes cold and detached; he was thinking, Rukia noticed. That was his thinking face. And his speaking face. And…really any and every face he had, to be perfectly honest. He wasn’t one for emotional outbursts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sparsely decorated office, was tidy. Captain Kuchiki’s desk had two thick stacks of papers on either side, the right one a little taller, and was placed in front of a large, three-tiered window, allowing for ample natural lighting. Illuminating it right now were candles, one on the table beside the desk, and one next to the door, where the vase was sitting, having barely survived the pair’s entrance earlier. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is there anything else to report?” His voice was calm, contained and collected. Gaze switching out the window, peering into the darkness outside, into a waxing crescent night. During the day, the view out the window lead into a private courtyard to the Kuchiki estate, lush, green grass ordinarily sprawling beyond it, until it met the stone walls, lining up to the officer barracks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, no, my Captain.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We saw the creature,” Rukia blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth immediately after the words left her mouth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Creature?” Byakuya looked towards her, slight furrow in his impeccable brows. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The monster that’s been attacking people” Renji said, glancing at her. ‘This isn’t exactly a priority,’ his gaze said. ‘We almost got gutted by it; it’s a priority’, she thought, glaring back at him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“It was the new moon the night I sent you out, was it not?” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The pair nodded to their captain, faces solemn. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I see. Very well; I will take this information to the Lord. You may return to your quarters.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Very good sir!” Renji and Rukia said simultaneously, heads bowed. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The barracks were the usual. Those on guard duty were out walking the perimeter; the others were asleep. Rukia had dried off any remaining dampness and changed, but was unable to fall asleep. She lay on the cot, blanketed up to her shoulders, staring at the darkened ceiling. She had a room in the manor, but for tonight she wanted the company of others around; a small comfort was better than none, she figured. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Trying to relax to the sound of rain falling, pelting the roof with fat, cold drops of water, she shivered. Right now, the rain didn’t know the difference between seasons, didn’t know it was supposed to be warmer. Her skin was still cold—usually it didn’t bother her much; winter was a season she loved, though it had ended a few weeks ago. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The frigidity, the snow, the light, brightness of it. It was refreshing—the cold was renewing. The stoutest plants and trees often needed to go through a period of cold stratification; she could relate to them. She too, was not yet at her peak, but her potential was growing, aching into a distant spring. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Someone should tell that to the rain, though.’ </em>
</p><p><em>Not sleeping for nearly two days had exhaustion seeping through her skin. </em> <em>Rukia blinked and saw the creature behind her eyes.  Its massive frame, crouched around bones and branches, paw-feet-hands-things stepping on bones and cracking them like thin little sticks. The black flames… blazing eyes…gooseflesh erupted across her arms and she rubbed them roughly with flat, cold palms. </em></p><p>
  <em>‘That creature…’ she thought, as the ceiling shifted over her tired eyes, like the flames on black paws. The guttural, two-toned voice still echoed in her mind, deep and gravely, like it was trying to speak with a throat ripped open. She shivered, but shut her eyes anyway. ‘I am safe in here, with others. I am safe. We weren’t followed…safe……. safe.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eyelids heavy, welcoming even a restless sleep, she let the mantra of ‘safe’ lull her into drowsiness, limbs going limp and relaxing slowly. Body sinking into the mattress, blanket pulled up to her chin.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Safe…safe…'</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'I never…got that bread…recipe…’</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>…</em>
</p><p>“When I said I wouldn’t mind going back, I didn’t mean immediately after we <em>just got back!”</em>  Rukia cried, eyes narrowed and glaring in front of her, past the huge, yellow head of the bratty horse.</p><p>“Well, we couldn’t keep this guy forever,” Renji offered. She could tell he shrugged behind her, and rolled her eyes. That still didn’t explain why they had to leave <em>right now</em>, or why she needed to go this time. She had things to do too! <em>It wasn’t even Nii-sama who ordered us to go, it was Captain Kyoraku. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>‘Since you’ve already been there, they’re already more familiar with you than anyone else; it makes sense…’ blah blah blah. </em>She shouldn’t’ve relied on Renji to remember the rest of what he said, because he absolutely wouldn’t.</p><p>Captain Kyoraku had an awful lot of good points for a man who preferred being drunk as to sober and scheming of ways to get handsy with Captain Ukitake. Though it was pretty obvious the scheming was completely unnecessary; the other captain was pretty receptive of any and all his ridiculous advances<em>. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“And he doesn’t even like me. I don’t think he’d even let me on if you weren’t on him.”</p><p>Rukia snorted. At least that part was true. The horse—Kon was his name—had bitten Renji twice, and tried to kick him once when the red-head wasn’t looking, the idiot. Granted the horse was pretty ornery, but Renji probably deserved it for doing something stupid, like braiding its hair wrong, or pulling its tail.</p><p>Lord Yamamoto had sent some kind of signal to the King of the neighboring kingdom, <em>a bird or something old-fashioned and unreliable,</em> but it seemed to have worked this time, since they were currently on their way back to Karakura, not two full days after their return. They were t expected this time, which was…something at least. Rukia intended to have no swords pointed in their faces on this visit; if it happened it would be because she wanted a fight, but since the red-head was also in her company, the chance of for-fun violence happening was significantly higher.</p><p><em>His mouth could get his body hanged, </em>she thought with a sigh. <em>Still, I guess it’s never boring.</em></p><p> </p><p>They still rode through the forest, but with the new moon gone, the danger was lower, which was great, since Kon wanted to stop every hour or so to complain. They were over halfway there, even with Kon’s fits, the light beginning to peak through the eastern horizon, over the distant mountains, washing the sky in faint warm yellows and pale blues through the budding trees. At least the rain had stopped.</p><p>“You don’t even like horses that much, how come he likes you so much?” Renji asked, making Rukia shake her head, smile on her face. As if the answer wasn’t obvious enough.</p><p>“It’s my feminine charm,” she said, giving a small hair flip.</p><p>Renji snorted and shifted behind her, yanking a small piece of hair in her short, put together, bob.</p><p>“Is that what we’re calling it now?”</p><p>Rukia waved her hand behind her, aiming to swat at him or yank his long, red ponytail in retaliation, but Kon shifted in his gait, throwing her off balance slightly. Renji’s arm was on the side of her shoulder, making sure she didn’t fall the moment her body swayed. <em>Damn the horse with no saddle,</em> she thought as she swatted Renji’s hand off her shoulder, pinching him once for good measure. He grunted in slight displeasure, but thankfully said nothing.</p><p>“Hands off! I know how to ride a horse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but not well.”<em> So much for saying nothing. Maybe I can get Kon to bite him again for being mean to me. </em></p><p>The previous, full day of recuperation had rested them up enough to ride back to Karakura, to the castle full of seemingly friendly faces and some…creepy ones. <em>Kiskue Urahara seems nice enough, but if what nii-sama says is true….</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He was the one who prepared Kon for the pair to travel back on that day, going so far as to place a silencing enchantment on his hooves…not that the beast used them, but Rukia figured that was a pure spite thing, not an intelligence one. He even gave them a couple of cloaks with hoods to keep them even a little more protected from the weather.</p><p>Kon whined at the sky more than once on the way to the Sovereignty, refusing to move when they were under a large tree resting a couple times. Renji mounted him once and he just…fell over, almost crushing one of the red-head’s legs. He was easily the most dramatic, bitchy, horse she’d ever met. They’d had to dismount four different times just because Kon was acting like a petulant child, stamping his large hooves on the ground, shooting sparks up around them in the muddy ground. He was the real reason they were late--Rukia suspected sabotage on Urahara's part at first, but the longer they were in the horse's company, the more it seemed being difficult was not only his hobby, but a personality trait. </p><p>Honestly, she'd actually like him quite a bit if he wasn’t such a brat, even though she favored smaller animals. <em>Too bad rabbits aren’t big enough to ride…</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Another two hours of riding, with one stop for Kon in between, they finally arrived at the castle. Dismounting at the gate, they were acknowledged with a head nod from a very tall, darker-skinned man with chocolate brown hair and friendly eyes. He showed them the way to the stables, but had to leave, saying something about Uryu needing him, whoever that was.</p><p>Reins in hand, Rukia lead Kon through the door and into the closed off stable, looking for an empty stall. He’d been cared for quite well at the Seireitei, but was not doubt glad to be back home, if his demeanor was anything to go by. His body was much more relaxed, and his ears were no longer almost painfully alert, pricking at every unfamiliar sound. Rukia patted his face once and the horse preened.</p><p>“There’s an empty stall there,” Renji said, pointing beside her. Rukia barely fought back the urge to step on his foot.</p><p>“I have two working eyes, Renji. I can see that quite clearly,” she said, looking towards him with a small scowl on her face.</p><p>Renji raised a pointed middle finger and opened his mouth, but was caught off by the door opening, letting in the orange haired prince. The pair turned to face him, reins dropping from Rukia’s hands.   </p><p> </p><p>“What are you two doing back here?” the man asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wore a simple, almost peasant shirt, belted around his waist with that strange guard-less sword he pointed at them a few days ago. <em>This week has been a month long. </em>Dark brown pants fit well, and were tucked into leather boots, stopping at mid-calf. Though it was obvious he wasn’t expecting them for some reason, he didn’t give off the impression of being nervous or afraid.</p><p><em>Then again, anyone who goes into a kitchen sword swinging at anything, probably wouldn’t be. </em> </p><p>Breaking eye contact from the man, Rukia bowed low, an acknowledgement to his position, even though the gesture made him a little uncomfortable, it seemed. <em>This place is much more…lax</em>.</p><p>“This guy was a pain in the ass,” Renji said beside her, not bothering with the formal politeness like bowing, or proper tone usage, <em>because he lives in a box, apparently.</em> Immediately she struck out her hand, palm down, and hit hard against his abdomen, surprising him, letting out a gasp for breath and a small whine of pain.</p><p>“Renji, this is the <em>prince,” </em>she hissed out, turning her head to look at him frowning at her through squinty eyes. He rubbed the area she hit, frown deepening.</p><p>Rukia tried to ignore the prince laughing at them. This was getting embarrassing. If Byakuya caught word….</p><p>“Owww,” the red-head whined. “Come on, you know I’m hungry. That just makes it worse.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be hungry if you’d eaten breakfast.”</p><p>“I did eat breakfast.”</p><p>“A single rice ball isn’t breakfast, idiot.”</p><p>Kon stamped his foot and whinnied, pushing his large, <em>wet</em> snout right into Rukia’s hair, inhaling like she was doused in perfume. <em>This guy is so weird. </em> </p><p>She scratched his ear once and pushed his face away when he got close enough to try and grab her Shihaksho with his nasty horse lips all grabby and floppy-like.</p><p>The prince laughed again. Rukia tried not to glare at him this time.</p><p>“You can just call me Ichigo,” the prince—Ichigo—said, as he walked up between the pair and grabbed the reins.</p><p>The horse did not go easy on him, trying to pull out of his grasp and stomping his feet some more. Renji and Rukia took a step to either side to give the man some room to flounder around with the beast, before the door opened again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Who the hell’er you two?” a gruff voice scaled out, like hot water over pristine skin. Kon relaxed and looked to the voice, letting the reins go slack, sending Ichigo down flat on his ass. Rukia snorted at the sight.</p><p>The man stood, over six feet tall. He wore a loose white shirt, deep ‘v’ neckline, metal ringlets on either side of the shirt, a scarlet string threaded loosely through it, leaving a muscular chest very exposed. Sleeves long, loose, except for the cinching of the wrists; belt around his middle, with the kingdom’s crest stitched in pretty, fancy embroidery.</p><p> The shirt, still long, even with the belt, covered most of his ass. The pants however, were not so loose. In fact, Rukia would go to say they barely fit, as they seemed stretched pretty tightly over what part of his ass he could see, and thighs, the boots around his calves were also tied in leather, holding them in place. <em>He really must like leather….</em></p><p>But the most interesting thing was the necklace. A double looped silver band around his neck. One held tightly to the base of his throat, the other, dangling with a ring at the center of his sternum. <em>A band of intent? The prince is courting this feral looking guy?</em> <em>Then again…</em>she shot a short glance at Renji, all spiky red hair and tattoos. <em>I get it.</em></p><p>By the look of the prince laying on the floor, twisting around and ogling the rough sounding stranger, she figured they were…<em>close…he must have a thing for slutty pirates.</em></p><p>“What the hell are you wearing?” Ichigo shouted from his position on the floor. Rukia quirked an eyebrow. Did the man not normally dress this way? How odd.</p><p>“Tch. Clothes.” <em>Oh good, a smartass.</em></p><p>The prince lay there in crisis for a few minutes while the wild, blue-eyed man sized them up, taking slow steps forward on worn, black boots, stepping on pieces of wayward straw. Rukia stared at him, unimpressed, and noticed something strapped to his upper thigh. <em>Dagger holster or something, probably. </em>He looked dangerous all by himself, Rukia didn't see why he needed a weapon. <em>Maybe he's the prince's bodyguard instead? </em></p><p>She pondered that thought as the pair continued to argue about the ring. Maybe he was <em>courting</em> the bodyguard? But those situations didn't seem to ever go well in the stories she'd read, so she figured probably not. He could be nothing more than a fling who was making his life difficult--<em>that would be incredibly amusing.</em></p><p>Blue stopped as soon as he got in front of the prince and looked down at him as Ichigo got to his feet, face less red and set in a hard scowl. <em>Let's test this, shall we?</em> </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t realize you were courting someone, <em>Ichigo,</em>” she said, voice dripping with honey, looking at him with her big, lavender eyes. The prince paled and went red simultaneously. <em>That takes talent.</em></p><p><em>“</em>No that’s not it it’s—” he stuttered out, stumbling to his feet the rest of the way, eyes wide, face scarlet. <em>What a terrible liar.</em> His posture reeked of unease, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. Was it because they were in here? He was fine before the slut-pirate waltzed in on his long legs. So it must be him who was effecting Ichigo in such a way. Speaking of which, slut-pirate threw an arm around the prince's shoulders. </p><p>“That’s exactly what it is,” the blue haired man said, grinning like a devil, giving Ichigo's arm a good squeeze. The prince glared back at him--for such a hotshot, he seemed pretty easily flustered. Maybe staying at the castle for a while wouldn't be such a bad thing.  </p><p><em>Interesting</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------</p><p>Ichigo knew he was blushing—he could feel it, in his face, his ears, neck, hell, even his chest felt heated. Even before the words left his mouth, crimson flamed to life on his face, hiding freckles behind a wash of red and pink on tanned skin.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> are you wearing?” The pitch in his voice was a little off—higher, strained. Giving away how he was feeling on the particular subject, unfortunately. The pair from the Seireitei snickered behind him, their voices boring into his ears like drums beaten by an overzealous, annoying monkey. Kon whinnied in what sounded like agreement, apparently hell-bent on making this as terrible of an experience as absolutely possible. His chest was kinda tight, <em>that’s normal, right?</em> <em>What does going into shock feel like? Maybe I’m having a heart attack. Those clothes are definitely not from Uryu.  </em></p><p>“Tch. Clothes,” Grimmjow said, eyes flicking to him once, before focusing on the two behind Ichigo instead. He took a step forward, pushing the door behind him shut with a sharp elbow. Kon whinnied and stamped his foot like a petulant child wanting attention. Ichigo heard him huff again, but didn’t turn around. The soft slap of a hand against his body said all it needed. <em>He probably tried to inhale Rukia’s hair…again. </em></p><p>Grimmjow took another step forward, one hand scratching at the exposed skin on his chest, eyes narrowing. <em>I shouldn’t be having this hard of a time right now. He’s been shirtless for two days, why the hell is this so much worse?</em></p><p>The white shirt, Ichigo suspected it was cotton, <em>there’s no way you could get linen that thin, there’s no way in hell,</em> was loose fitting, it almost looked too big. <em>I’d say it was Dad’s, but…why can I see his nipples through the damn thing</em>. Ichigo could easily make out the white bandages wrapping around Grimmjow’s lower abdomen <em>through</em> the shirt, not to mention the pink bud of his nipples staring at him like a second pair of eyes. Ichigo was going to pointedly ignore that for as long as he could. <em>If he stood in the sun, he’d look like he was glowing.</em> <em>He’d make a terrible angel, but damn if it wouldn’t be a good sight.</em></p><p>The wrists of the long-sleeved shirt were cinched at his wrists, something brown wrapped around his forearms, underneath billowy sleeves. Recalling their fight in the woods earlier in the week, Ichigo assumed they were probably his bracers—the only enchanted thing he seemed to wear or use, <em>not that we’ve been sparring. It’s not like I would know what else…</em>. A dark, brown leather ring-belt wrapped around his waist twice, fancy gold stitching around the edges and ornamented with flat, gold studs engraved with the royal crest on every other stud, <em>one of my fathers….</em></p><p>The shirt itself, besides <em>fucking thin</em>, was also cut into a deep ‘v’ shape, reaching to his navel, revealing the top of his bandages. Metal eyelets emitting a dull shine on each side of the 'v', so it could be threaded through with thin string, a deep scarlet this time, collar lying flat against Grimmjow’s shoulders. He didn’t thread it all the way, or at all, really, leaving the crisscrossing string across his chest to hang loosely from the little rings, tassels on the end dangling loosely against the shirt, right about where his waist was.</p><p>If Ichigo wasn’t about ready to combust, it would’ve been a shame the shirt Grimmjow had put on was too long, since his ass wasn’t visible. <em>Those pants have got to be one size too small.</em> He probably had a great ass, especially in <em>those</em> pants. <em>I’m going to die.</em> Black pants, stretched tightly over thick, muscular, thighs were tucked into leather boots, partly because that’s what they were supposed to do, but mainly because they wouldn’t go over the boots unless he cut them up to mid-calf. <em>He could do it too, with the dagger he’s got strapped around his leg.</em> Was Ichigo’s mouth watering? He couldn’t tell.</p><p>Ichigo swallowed as he noticed the thigh holster, the same dark brown leather as the belt, strapped around Grimmjow’s upper right thigh, partially concealed by the shirt. The brown tip of the sheath was visible, hitting around his lower thigh, a few inches above his knee. He figured there was probably a dagger in it, but maybe not. If Grimmjow’s track record of messing with Ichigo’s stuff was anything to go by, if there was a dagger in it, it was probably one of his. Black boots, <em>Grimmjow’s black boots,</em> Ichigo thought, recognizing them by the wornness of the tips, were strapped around his calves, holding them in place. <em>Did I say something to Uryu about shoes? I don’t remember. </em></p><p> </p><p>No matter what clothing Grimmjow was wearing, that wasn’t what caught Ichigo’s attention the most. What was strangling the prince for all the breath in his body was the pendant—wrapped around Grimmjow’s thick column of a neck was an old, old tradition. Ichigo didn’t know if anyone even followed it anymore, <em>not that I’d have anyone to compare it too.</em></p><p>A silver chain, looped twice around his neck, one loop pulled taut at the base of his throat, the other loop hung loose, resting at the center of his chest. From it, dangled a silver ring, blackened on the inside and on the rim. <em>My ring of intent,</em> Ichigo thought as his eyes bore into it, like if he stared at it enough, it would melt down the man’s chest, cleaving another scar along the thick, defined muscle of his abdomen.  </p><p><em>I thought we were past this stage you old pervert. </em>Ichigo looked at the ground, trying to will the red away. It wasn’t going to work, there was no way, but a guy could dream right? Now his old man was <em>actively</em> feeding into the lie and Ichigo and Grimmjow were…they were…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’ve been wasting my time searching for a lock when I should’ve been looking for another key!</em>
</p><p>Isshin’s words echoed in Ichigo’s ears like a dull, cracked, bell hit by a horned(horny) goat with some serious self-preservation issues. <em>Okay, so I’m going to kill Dad, then. I’ll be a fine orphan. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>In the time it took Ichigo to take in everything going on in front of him, attempting to get his face under some semblance of control, Grimmjow was right there, his booted legs directly in front of his face; the man himself was looking down at Ichigo curiously, one hand on his hip, smile cocked to one side of his face. Ichigo could see up the draping fabric of the shirt until it met the leather of the belt. <em>Those pants are really tight, holy shit.</em></p><p> </p><p>“What, you mean this, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asked holding up the ring between his fingers, rolling it around some before tracing the rim with his thumb, held on his index finger. The look he was giving Ichigo indicated he was thinking about…other things. Ichigo felt his toes curl and he refuse to break eye contact with him—that would be like losing. He wasn’t going to lose to this idiot again.</p><p>“Dunno, yer old man said to wear it, the creep. Said if I was gonna stay with you, I had t’wear it.”  Ichigo could tell he was <em>probably </em>lying. Even so, Isshin was a dirty, pervert bastard who needed to get other hobbies other than trying to live whatever fantasy was in his head vicariously through him. Worse yet, Grimmjow either bought into it, or was actively screwing around with his head, which he wouldn’t put past the guy.</p><p>“<em>Damnit Dad,</em>” Ichigo cursed, as he tried to get to his feet without stumbling like an embarrassed child. Feeling eyes bore into him from behind, he tried to ignore them. <em>Maybe the old traditions are different in the Seireitei,</em> Ichigo hoped.</p><p>Renji whistled. <em>And maybe not.</em></p><p>“I didn’t realize you were courting someone, <em>Ichigo,”</em> the woman said, sly smile on her face, like she’d known him years instead of days. He rubbed the heels of his hands on his face as he turned his back to the blue-haired demon, scrubbing it with imaginary soap because he needed to think about <em>purity</em> and <em>chastity</em> and <em>damnit</em> <em>it all</em>, he thought, as Grimmjow slung a lazy arm across his shoulders, opening up the ‘v’ of the shirt even wider, if that were possible. Ichigo looked directly at Rukia, steeling his face, eye twitching in irritation.</p><p>“No that’s not it, it’s—”</p><p>“That’s exactly what it is,” Grimmjow said, not missing a beat, feral smirk on his face, his grip on Ichigo’s shoulder tightening. <em>I’m killing two people today.</em>  </p><p>“No it’s not,” Ichigo grit, pinching the skin of the man’s hand; all he did was flex his fingers in annoyance, digging them into the top of his arm.  </p><p>“Sure is.”</p><p>Rukia and Renji looked back and forth to the arguing pair, an air of amusement surrounding them as they shared some kind of knowing glance. Ichigo felt his stomach bottom out as the woman began to speak.</p><p>“You know…” Rukia started, not bothering to hide her horrible little half-smile. Kon was still beside her, sticking his snotty snout into the black robes she wore, sniffing at either side, searching for sugar cubes or some other treat. He grabbed a little bit of her hair between his lips, because he was a big, yellow, brat. She swatted him away.  </p><p>“It’s usually the other way around.” Renji finished for her, patting Kon on his side, earning a small huff of indignation from the beast. Ichigo didn’t see Zangetsu’s monstrous body from where he was standing, probably out in the pasture, as he quirked an eyebrow, not quite understanding.</p><p>“What?” he asked, trying to shrug off Grimmjow’s arm.</p><p>“The other usually party objects, not the prince,” he finished, eyes flicking between the two.</p><p>Ichigo sighed and rolled his eyes. He was going to have a headache if this kept up for too much longer; Grimmjow’s hand slowly swept down his arm and to his side, pinching Ichigo slightly. He laughed as Ichigo wrenched his hand away and took a step away, putting at least two feet between them.</p><p>Rukia snickered loudly as she watched them, as did Renji, who pulled a little square out of a hidden pocket in his robe and offered it to the horse. Kon sniffed it and made a face. After a moment of consideration, he took it, but got as much horse saliva on his hand as absolutely possible. Renji made a startled, unmasculine sound, which made Rukia laugh even more.</p><p>Taking the opportunity for the distraction, Ichigo grabbed a hold of Grimmjow’s arm and drug him to the door, opened it, and stepped out into sunlight. Narrowing a glare on the man, Ichigo’s eye twitched. <em>He really does look like he’s glowing. Damn that shirt is basically transparent—he’s a demon in angel skin. </em></p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” Ichigo said, voice low, as to not let the now arguing pair inside the stable hear them.</p><p>“Payback for this morning.” Grimmjow got right in his face, growling, but not touching. He smacked Ichigo’s hand away from his arm. “Got me all horned up and did <em>shit for nothin’.”</em> <em>What the fuck were you expecting me to do?!</em></p><p>“My Dad was in the room you bastard!” Ichigo shouted, and then stopped. Lowering his voice once more he looked up to the sky and pinched the bridge of his nose. Grimmjow had backed up a little. “Not to mention those other two shady perverts. And how the hell was I supposed to know that got you going, huh?”</p><p>“So? You coulda let me—”</p><p>“Let you <em>what</em>, molest me? What the fu—”</p><p>“You were the one wiggling around on top of—"</p><p>“<em>Because you wouldn’t let me go you idiot,” </em>Ichigo hissed out, hands grabbing his hair and pulling. <em>I’m going to be killing two people today, AND I’m going to be bald. Life is a bitch.</em></p><p>“Besides, no-one is buying this courting thing—everybody already knows the tru—”</p><p>“They didn’t,” Grimmjow interrupted for the third time, jutting his thumb back into the stables where the pair had stopped arguing for now, and were now talking about…bread? Grimmjow continued as Ichigo opened his mouth.</p><p>“S’why yer old man gave me this thing,” he said, dangling the ring chain in front of his face. “More believable now, or somethin’. Peach fuzz said the same.” Ichigo growled, mainly to himself, but also to Grimmjow, who had a winning grin on his face, like he’d just won a jousting competition and was ready to claim his prize. <em>Why does it feel like I’m supposed to play the part as ‘prize’ for this?</em></p><p>“You really want to take advice from those two idiots?”</p><p>“Seem to be better’n yours right now.” Ichigo glared at him.  </p><p>“Grimmjow—”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, kid, I’m gonna kill Aizen, one way or another,” Grimmjow said, getting right back in his face, eyes blazing like an ocean on fire, the wild locks of blue pushed back into some semblance of order, minus a couple strands hanging in front of his face.  His jaw set in a hard line, Ichigo saw the scar on the flesh on the right side of his face flex with tension as he continued</p><p>“Right now, this is the best shot I’ve got. So <em>shut the fuck up and go along with it, bitch-boy.”</em></p><p>His fingers flicked down to his thigh, where the dagger was strapped to his thigh. <em>How does he even have blood flow in that leg,</em> Ichigo thought as Grimmjow hoisted up the shirt somewhat, revealing, much to the prince’s dismay, it <em>was</em> one of his personal daggers. Of course, it would be.</p><p>“Unless you wanna get in the way,” Grimmjow said, voice darkening, face coming closer, a snarl on his lip.</p><p>“Threatening a prince <em>definitely</em> seems to be the right way to go about this,” Ichigo grit right back through clenched teeth. He was close enough to feel Grimmjow’s hot breath across his face. Blue eyes flicked down to his own, narrowed in ire. They were almost chest to chest as they continued the staring contest, air thick with tension, apprehension. Neither of them moved back; blinking wasn’t happening anytime soon, either.</p><p>Grimmjow’s eyes flicked down once, looking at something else on Ichigo’s face before he smirked like a horned devil, and slid his snake arm around the prince’s tense body. Ichigo inhaled sharply at the contact, as Grimmjow forced him closer, bringing them flush together from chest to hip. Something in Grimmjow’s gaze switched from angry to hungry, and Ichigo wasn’t quite sure which he’d rather deal with right now.</p><p> </p><p>It was Rukia who broke the spell over them, knocking on the wood frame of the door, tearing their attention elsewhere. <em>I still don’t see why we’ve got to pretend to do this; couldn’t he just be a secret spy, or I dunno a rogue test subject for Urahara. If Dad likes him so damn much, let him wear his ring, not mine,</em> Ichigo thought bitterly, breaking eye contact with the roving eyes before him, pulling his arm away, and taking a step back, putting a scant about of distance between their bodies. <em>Damnit he’s so warm. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“You guys okay?” Rukia asked, head peeking out and staring between them. Kon whinnied distantly, and Ichigo heard him stamp his feet again. They must’ve gotten him put up while he and Grimmjow were arguing. He probably went right in if she had led the way, damn horse. Renji pushed her through the doorway, shutting it behind him as she slapped at his hands.   </p><p>“Probably just a lovers quarrel. Let’s go,” Renji said, shoving them farther away from each other, and walking through his makeshift path. He was barely taller than Grimmjow, Ichigo noticed, trying to ignore how cold he felt without the hand on his side.</p><p>“I’m hungry, got any more of that bread?” he asked, throwing his gaze behind him as he trudged towards the castle, not bothering to stop. He heard Rukia groan behind him and she muttered something about manners.</p><p><em>Long day indeed,</em> he thought, as he felt Grimmjow’s gaze bore into the back of his skull like a red-hot poker.</p><p>
  <em>I wonder if that means he can sleep in my room since he’s got my ring</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ichigo certainly has his priorities. I realize I have him going back and forth with his feelings, but I'm just going to say that's normal for him lol there are no gray areas with ya boy. </p><p>Whooo I hope the clothing description meets the expectations lol. I realize the necklace/band thing might be a little...something...but we are going to go with it. I remembered ATLA uses engagement necklace thingys or whatever they're called and, thought I forgot about them, I probably drew references from that subconsciously.<br/>Fun fact, a weird tool showed up in my workspace and I’m pretty sure it was actually a tool to eyelets/grommets into cloth. I have no idea where it came from lol. It’s either that or an ear-piercing tool for someone who wants to make people cry. idk i only know how to make a quilt<br/>ALSO every time Byakuya is staring into the distance or being stoic or whatever, I always imagine that the only thing going through his head is the equivalent of soul society elevator music. Kudo's, comments, feedback is always welcome!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ichigo leads the party to the kitchen, where Orihime and Tatsuki have made breakfast. Unfortunately, they have very little time to enjoy it before the King and his advisor stroll in and pick apart the group, fractioning them into sections to go explore or...something. Grimmjow ends up going back to Urahara Kisuke's lab, an unknown face attempts to tackle Ichigo in the kitchen, and Chad, along with Uryu, drag a still eating Renji outside to look around. All in all, a pretty routine day...until it isn't.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since I can't leave anything alone, ever, I went back and edited the ending slightly, hoping its a little more in character.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Change into this, Espada.” the king said, throwing a folded stack of clothes at him. Grimmjow didn’t flinch, even if he wanted to. What was he going to make him change before he executed him for treason? He hadn’t done anything worth that…yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unless of course this idiot saw the look on his face as his son was wiggling around on him—that could possibly warrant some irksome feelings from the guy. Fat chance he let that happen though—he could still shift and run. May not get out unscathed, but there was no way in hell he was getting killed by this moron before he ripped into Aizen with his claws. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This man, the King, apparently, had followed Grimmjow back to his room, obviously not trusting him. ‘Good choice,’ he thought absently, looking at the pile of clothes the man had tossed him. The shirt was basically see-through, and the pants were not going to fit very well. ‘Should go naked; be easier than wearin’ this shit.’ He grinned to himself; that would really make the ginger go pink. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isshin held something shiny up, catching Grimmjow’s eyes. “And then put this around your neck.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dangling from hairy fingers, was a silver chain with a ring threaded on it. A sliver ring with what looked like a purposely tarnished inside. Grabbing it, he turned it over in his hands, knowing exactly what it was, even though the normal masses of people didn’t use this outdated, weird-ass tradition anymore. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow; talk about mixed signals. Did he want to kill Grimmjow or let him fuck his son? Those were two very different objectives. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t seem like the best idea.” He threw the clothing on the edge of the bed; it was just as big as the stupid ginger prince’s, and probably just as comfortable, if he’d even bothered getting in last night after this damned talkative beast had finally left him alone. Why he didn’t let Grimmjow know then he knew about his former affiliation, was a mystery to him. ‘This whole castle is full of fuckin’ freaks.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t worry, it’s my idea anyway,” Kisuke said, stepping through the door. Grimmjow sneered at him. That explained almost everything, in a weird, fucky way, really. This guy seemed like he had a few too many bolts loose, and put them back in places where they really, shouldn’t have went. Whatever. For now, it looked like it would work out in his favor.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why, are you going to refuse, Espada?” the King said, gaze cold and hard. Grimmjow swallowed down the response he really, wanted to say. He’d use it another time, souls knew there would probably be more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, he’s an ex-espada, dear Isshin.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So you said. The sentiment remains the same.” Isshin walked up to Grimmjow, eyes narrowed and sharp. The guy was right about the same height as him, if not a little broader across the shoulders. More of a gut, too, but Grimmjow figured that was probably deceptive, if anything. ‘This guy isn’t a stupid as he let’s on, huh,’ he thought, watching his posture for any sudden moves. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This will offer you some protection while you are here, but if you hurt my idiot son or my baby girls, I will end your life with a wooden spoon and half a bottle of mead.” Isshin was gesturing to the ring, chain intertwined around his fingers. Grimmjow raised a skinny eyebrow at him. Protection. What a load of shit. He wasn’t some kid who couldn’t take care of himself, and he ‘definitely’ didn’t need the help of the idiot brigade currently staring at him. At least Kisuke had the self-awareness to look like he didn’t give a rat’s ass either way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grimmjow snorted at the king, who was still eyeing him suspiciously. ‘He’s probably still pissed I was in Kurosaki’s room,’ he thought, smirk beginning to spread across his face. The ring gave him an idea, as he dropped it over his head and looped it around one more time.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Guess I won’t be needin’ this room anymore then.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isshin’s eye twitched as Grimmjow gave him a large, fanged smile. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>…</p><p>‘Hime and Tatsuki were doing…something in the kitchen as the party walked through the door, two more people stronger than when they’d left. Isshin gave him half-assed directions to the stables, one of which offering the window to jump out of, and he’d met the prince late, though the look on his face had been worth it. He’d have to get back at the brat later for earlier. He deserved it.</p><p>If the women knew to expect guests, they certainly weren’t saying, but they did make enough food to feed a damned army. Some kind of dried or pickled fish, weird shaped bread, eggs, and some kind of mushy off-white shit bubbling in an iron pot on the fired stove. Everything smelled delicious. Mixes of salty and sweet smells, warmth flooded the room, and the bread appeared freshly baked. The black-haired dwarf beside him held back a poorly contained squeal as she brought fisted hands up to her face, large eyes growing even larger as she noticed…something. Hell if he knew what.  </p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is her deal?</em>
</p><p>“Alright, look at all the food!” Red minus well yelled directly into his eardrum, as he was standing right the fuck next to him. If anything, the guy was his height or barely taller than himself, but not quite as broad shouldered as Grimmjow. Where the fuck had Kurosaki met these two Seireitei goons? He was under the impression this kingdom had isolationist policies—that’s why he was able to get by living in the forest with no one knowing he was there. Well…almost no one.</p><p>The dwarf-girl looked <em>around</em> Grimmjow to glare at her loud-mouthed companion. He seemed alright, all things considered. The stick up his ass was probably more like a small twig, compared to her’s, the prissy thing.</p><p>Wall torches and scones were lit, flames licking at the wall behind them. Even with them all flickering, the room was still somewhat dim, and with as many people passed through the door, shadows were cast in every direction across the stone floor. Grimmjow could feel the cold seeping up through the worn bottom on his shoes. <em>Shit</em>. He didn’t figure any of Kurosaki’s would fit, but he’d have to try later for the hell of it.</p><p>Right now, he was tired of walking, especially with the damned tourniquet strapped around his leg with a dagger in it. Isshin had <em>insisted </em>he wore that as well, <em>idiot prolly thought it’d make me slower,</em> he thought, as he tried to fiddle with the top strap to loosen it a little.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you again, Rukia, Renji,” ‘Hime said, as she gave each of them a nod. Dwarf, <em>or maybe she’s closer to a hobbit,</em> returned the nod with a smile. Red had gone starry eyed looking at the food and probably hadn’t heard her with every crack in his head filled with drool. “His majesty came by and said that we’d be having guests, and I didn’t know what you liked, so we tried to make a bit of a few different things!”</p><p>“Please don’t call my dad that, he barely fits through doors as it is,” Kurosaki said from behind him. Grimmjow snorted in response. Belatedly, he wondered how long they were going to keep him in the dark for, the longer they waited, the angrier the prince would probably be. <em>Maybe I should do it.</em> Kisuke had said he’d keep it quiet from the guy, but really, he was bound to find out sooner or later, and he was getting sick of covering up his number. Constant bandages were itchy, and it was drying out his skin.  </p><p>“Well, calling him Isshin sounds rude,” ‘Hime said with a slight pout.</p><p>“Good, let’s go with that, then.” Kurosaki stepped around everyone, walking up to her and the rest of the party who were seated around the room. The prissy tailor was close to ‘Hime’s side, glaring at Grimmjow, and everyone else for that matter. Uptight little prick. Big and Tall was sitting quietly at the table farthest from the stove, facing the newest arrivals.</p><p>“Where’s Karin and Yuzu?”</p><p>“Hmm? Oh! The little girl woke up and they were showing her around a little bit. Yuzu wanted to make sure she ate something first though. This many people would probably frighten the poor thing.”</p><p>Oh good, the King had found another orphan for his collection. He really was serious about it, huh? <em>He must like wiping ass, then.</em></p><p>“That’s good news then,” Kurosaki said, mostly to himself. ‘Hime nodded and clapped her hands together.</p><p>“Alright everyone, let’s eat!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…..</p><p>“Renji you pig, that’s absolutely disgusting!” the dwarf-hobbit said as he swallowed up every crumb on his plate, even licking the remains from his fingertips, leaving a distinct, and disgusting <em>pop</em>, as he sucked the last bit of salt from his greedy fingers.</p><p>Red could give Grimmjow a run for the last of his coin as much food as the guy was putting away. Dwarf-hobbit was barely holding herself back from gagging violently, if the screwed up look on her face was anything to go by. She had already waved a wooden spoon around at the guy, and it still was clutched in her balled up fist, between thin fingers.</p><p>Grimmjow had seated himself right next to Kurosaki, much to the tailor’s dismay. Then again, his face hadn’t changed all that much, so maybe he just…looked like that all the time. Unless ‘Hime was talking to him. Then he softened up a little.</p><p>The women—all three of them—were sitting on top of the wooden table with the dip in it, wearing it down even more. Sharing whatever was on each of their plates. Dwarf-hobbit had hoarded a small army of the bread— ‘Hime called it <em>bunny bread? —</em>and looked more interested inspecting/playing with it than she did eating it.</p><p>
  <em>Weird.</em>
</p><p>Red—Renji was his name, but Grimmjow decided he’d call him Red until further notice—had wolfed-down another heaping plate of food like it was his last day among the living. He was sitting across from the tailor, and BnT, whose name was <em>Chad</em> of all things. The scrawny, white-clad tailor looked like he would rather be swallowing needles than witness the red-head eat with such violent force, splattering food all over the table. Grimmjow snorted as a small bit of the slimy-white stuff/supposed porridge, flicked across the glass on his glasses.</p><p>If he ignored how it looked—a thick, lumpy texture with a little…graininess to it—it was actually pretty good. ‘Hime had been the one who made it, and, as he’d come to expect, the only people who ate more than a little bit had been him and Red. She’d mixed in some soy sauce and fish roe, which made it pretty salty, but Grimmjow preferred that to sweet stuff.</p><p>Dwarfy had taken notice of Red’s eating in that time and lobbed a small roll at his head. Grimmjow half expected it to be speared by one of his pointy pony-tailed spikes, but was disappointed when it fell to the floor. Dwarf looked even more disappointed in his life choices as he picked it off the ground and bit into it without a single thought. He really didn’t see how they were supposed to look like rabbits, unless they were supposed to look like one <em>after</em> they’d been mauled by a wolf, but he wanted to keep eating ‘Hime’s food, so he wouldn’t bring that up.</p><p>Kurosaki looked like he was taking everything in, eyes sweeping across the room, from his friends, to the new faces, and finally, settling on Grimmjow beside him, leaned by in the chair. <em>Damn</em>, his leg felt weird. He fiddled with the strap again as Kurosaki frowned.</p><p>“That <em>is</em> one of mine,” he said quietly, like he was afraid someone else would overhear.</p><p>“Tch. Obviously.”</p><p>Really, who else would it have belonged to? There was no way he’d go back to the tailor’s room unless he was bribed, and he’d only get one from the King if he let him stab Grimmjow with it first. Isshin just said it would <em>make you look cool. Masaki loved this outfit.</em> Why Grimmjow had agreed to wear whatever shit that old bastard had worn to woo his dead wife was beyond him. Probably because there were no other options available at the time, but still. He should’ve just stolen something from the price’s room.</p><p><em>Then again, </em>Grimmjow thought, remembering the face Kurosaki had made when he saw him wearing it, <em>maybe he liked it a little too.</em></p><p>Besides, it was the only dagger that looked like it had a suitable enchantment on it. Hell, it was even engraved on the damn blade, so it was a permanent one, which were notoriously hard to make. Metal was a fickle beast, and hell if he wouldn’t figure out how to wield it; the curving of the spell etched onto the surface along with certain symbols, made him think it could channel internal magic. At least, he’d figure it out if the prince didn’t try to wrestle it back from him later…though that situation could have…<em>potential.</em> He’d think about that later.</p><p>Red said something to Chad about walking the perimeter, checking for weak spots. <em>Check the hole in the wall to the east,</em> he thought shaking his head. Grimmjow listened as he, Chad, and even the prissy little tailor, made plans to walk the grounds later, after they were finished eating. Grimmjow looked over at Kurosaki, half wondering if he would go. It would be nice to walk outside some, after being cooped up between wood and stone for two entire days, but he’d definitely need to take off the torniquet first. He didn’t look like he was listening to any particular chatter in the room, until he looked right at Grimmjow.</p><p>“This is weird.” His voice was still quiet, almost contemplative. Grimmjow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. <em>Weird</em> seemed to be the castle’s theme.</p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“This—” he said, gesturing vaguely to…everything. The women sitting on the table, two out of three swinging their legs, dwarf-hobbit’s feet miles away from the floor, no matter how close to the edge she sat. The three men sitting to the left of them—Red had gotten a third heaping plate of food, and caught Grimmjow looking, and nodded. Grimmjow nodded back in solidarity and understanding.</p><p>Grimmjow shrugged and finished eating his salty fish roe porridge, left hand going up to tug on the silver chain around his neck, looking back at Kurosaki, who was still staring.  </p><p>“So,” Grimmjow started, well aware of how the intent band worked, but playing the fool for fun at this point, <em>Kurosaki can’t have full command over the role, after all,</em> “gonna wear somethin’ of mine too or—”</p><p>Kurosaki sputtered on a spoonful of eggs, drawing the attention of everyone, face reddening, much to Grimmjow’s un-hidden delight, as he offered up his most feral of grins, all sharp teeth and burning stare.</p><p>“That’s not quite how it works,” he said lowly, eye twitching, gaze flicking between everyone’s faces, even though Grimmjow’s stare hadn’t left his own. He didn’t bother to tell him he knew that already; wearing the damned ring was already a symbol of returned…something or other. It wouldn’t be worn at all, otherwise. More fun for him. Maybe being a hermit in the woods had left him ignorant of the <em>ways </em>of things. It absolutely hadn’t but he could use it as an advantage for a little while at least.</p><p>“What, possession only goes one way? How’s that fair?” Grimmjow didn’t bother lowering his voice like Kurosaki had, keeping the attention of everyone in the room, as the prince’s face blossomed into the reddest he’d seen yet. He’d have to make a chart later. See how red he could get him before he had an aneurysm. It would be fun.</p><p>“P-Possession? What the hell did my father tell you!”</p><p>Kurosaki had dropped the spoon entirely, clattering onto the table with a dull sound. His voice was kind of squeaky. <em>Souls, kid’s easy to tease.</em></p><p>“That you are, in fact, an idiot,” Isshin said, as he pushed open the swinging door, much more carefully this time, as to not repeat the previous night of nearly breaking his nose with a door. His nose had a very small, almost unnoticeable, red mark, that if he wasn’t looking for it, Grimmjow wouldn’t have noticed.</p><p>Kurosaki’s wide eyes narrowed in on the old geezer who stepped to the side, near the women’s table as he swiped a bread from the small pile next to dwarfy, who’s small eyebrow twitch was the only thing that told of her irritation of having one of her…bread minions stolen, and stuffed half the thing into his fat mouth. <em>There’s no way that shrimp could eat all that shit, she’d explode. </em></p><p>Kisuke stepped into the room after an extended moment of Isshin chewing, loudly and obnoxiously, like it was made from some kind of taffy instead. Each of the three women had a different look of disgust on their face as they listened to him.</p><p>Kurosaki sighed, irritated, beside him. Grimmjow saw him chew the corner of his lip as he watched the guy, a deep frown settling onto his features. No wonder the kid needed to get away from this place from time to time, Grimmjow figured he would murder the guy if he had to deal with him for any extended period.</p><p>“Ah, hello there, Mr. Grimmjow. I would like to speak with you for a bit, if you’re not too busy,” Kisuke said, walking straight up to him, strange placid grin stretching across his face like a length of wet rope. Grimmjow didn’t like it. He wanted something and whatever it was, he didn’t want to give it to him on principle.  </p><p>“And if I am?”</p><p>“Then you can listen to our beloved King here chew the bread back into dough.” The tone in his voice switched slightly, and Grimmjow figured the man was anything but beloved at the moment. He said nothing as he looked at the advisor, the only sound permeating the room were the King’s jaws flapping around as he continued his mistreatment of bread, jaw working in overdrive as he opened his mouth wider every time, trying to…do something.  </p><p>“Will you give it a rest already!?” Tatsuki yelled as she grabbed the dwarf’s spoon and chucked it at him, nailing him square between his eyes when he turned to look at them. <em>Nice aim.</em></p><p>“I don’t think it’s baked enough!” Isshin cried as he rubbed his forehead, stupid frown pulling the corners of his mouth down on his scruffy face.</p><p>“And you chewing a single one for thirty minutes is going to help how, exactly?”</p><p>Grimmjow liked Tatsuki. She was probably one of a couple in the room who could assault the king and get away with it unscathed. That and the man completely deserved it. Maybe he would go with Kisuke, if only to get away from the idiot King.</p><p>Isshin pouted and swallowed the piece he’d been working on so vigorously with great theatrics, throwing his head forward like a big ugly turtle, a hand coming up to his throat to ‘help’ the dough ball go down, before biting off another piece and restarting the whole god-forsaken experience. Everyone let out a collective groan as the guy started up again with the obnoxious sounds, one eye half-closing and twitching as he worked the bread in one side of his mouth like some kind of malformed goat.</p><p>“Alright, damnit, but let’s get the fuck outta here,” Grimmjow said as he stood, looking at Kisuke who looked just as put off by the King’s antics as everyone else. Good to know he was irritating to <em>everyone.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They walked towards his office-hole-lab-whatever the hell it was, little black cat winding around his legs, and Grimmjow tried not to step on it, or boot it into the wall. Winding stairs echoed their footsteps as they ascended. Reaching the ground level or second level, Grimmjow didn’t quite know how the damned castle worked, they trudged up a second set of stairs, cat meowing a few times just to be irritating. A couple times, he knew he heard shuffling, around distant corners in other hallways, but every time he turned, there was ono-one there. His skin prickled with the sensation of being watched, but figured it was rouge castle staff he’d yet to meet.</p><p>“Hmm, maybe that’s the little one. I think Missus Karin and Yuzu were going to show her around today, since she woke up and ate,” the advisor said, waving his hand around like it was some off handed comment. “I don’t think she cares too much for men, though.”</p><p>Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the man as they kept walking over the wooden floorboards, closing in on his…whatever the room was called that he holed himself in. He must’ve felt Grimmjow’s gaze on the back of his neck, right at his blind spot, since he turned towards him and presumably met his gaze, eyes hidden by his stupid green hat.</p><p>“Our own Yoruichi found her on some mountain road, far to the north. The poor thing’s head was nearly split open.” Grimmjow flinched, if the kid didn’t end up getting some kind of permanent damage, she’d be lucky as hell, he figured. This guy seemed like he knew a great many things, but fixing permanent damage? Doubtful. Then again, if he really did create that damned gem…the Hōgyoku, or whatever he called it, he could probably do more than he let on.</p><p>The cat meowed again, bringing Grimmjow’s attention back to it as he yanked on the stupid thigh holster. Yellow-green eyes stared at him as he was finally able to loosen the damned thing, and Kisuke chuckled when the stupid beast jumped on his pantleg, digging sharp little claws through thin fabric into his skin. Grimmjow growled at the little beast as he plucked it from his leg like a furry little apple, holding onto it by the scruff of its neck and bringing it up to his face where he could look at it properly.</p><p>“You little shit,” he grumbled when the creature batted at his nose, claws in this time, thankfully, pointedly trying to ignore the laughing man in front of him, face half hidden by an equally ugly fan.</p><p>“You should name her,” he said when it—she, apparently—meowed directly in his face. Her breath stunk.</p><p>“Why?” Grimmjow wasn’t in the business of caring for things, not to mention naming them. Especially bratty little furballs that couldn’t keep their claws to themselves.</p><p>“Why not? No one else has yet, and she seems to like you.”</p><p>“Tch.” Grimmjow looked at her again, bright eyes, more green than yellow, now that he looked properly, fur as black as what he summoned around his body like armor. She was a little like…</p><p>“Pantera,” he said with finality, setting her down on the floor with what bit of care he could muster. She bit one finger with her sharp little teeth, the brat.</p><p>“Ah, so cultured. Yet so boring,” Kisuke said, as he watched the man flick her head gently, giving her exactly one (1) scratch behind her ears.</p><p>Grimmjow glared at him as he stood and straightened, but otherwise said nothing. The advisor waved his stupid fan around a bit, fanning himself and sometimes Grimmjow, as they both stood there, looking at each other. <em>I should’ve stayed in the kitchens.</em></p><p>Kisuke promptly turned around and started walking again, leaving Grimmjow and the ca—Pantera, behind.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s the assassin?” Kisuke was still ahead of him, but slowed his pace a little when Grimmjow asked the question after a couple minutes of hearing only footsteps tapping along the floor. And Pantera zooming quickly in front and down a random hallway, darting out when he got close to try and grab his legs.</p><p>The advisor stopped at a door, the one he led Grimmjow through the previous day, and looked back him.</p><p>“Hm? Oh, Lady Yoruichi? After we parted ways this morning, and the King was done pestering you, he sent her off on a short mission. She should be back before the meeting tomorrow.”</p><p><em>Pestering</em> was not the word Grimmjow would’ve used, but figured arguing over word semantics was a thing to do later, as Kisuke opened the door, urging him inside with his dumb little fan. Grimmjow frowned, and ignored the small dropping of his stomach as the man closed the door behind them, shutting them once more in the dimly lit room.</p><p>The torch scones flickered lowly, flames not even close to reaching the walls of black stone. A small, circular table shoved in the corner, different vials all containing various dark liquids, a couple bubbling under a low flame, the wooden desk still a mess in the center of the room. Near his feet, Grimmjow spied a book written in a strange language, closer to pictures than any written letters he’d ever seen. Papers with various scribbles were strewn about, on the floor, on the desk, shoved in the various wall cubicles, which were similar to the tailors, except the wood was darker, fitting with the general aesthetic, he figured.</p><p>From where he stood, it looked like the room extended further to the right, but was somewhat hidden by a couple towers of fuckin’ <em>huge</em> books stacked up like a tower. <em>Maybe that’s what he does in his spare time.</em></p><p>He had wisely left the little cat outside, though Grimmjow would love to see the kind of chaos she could get into. <em>Probably knock over some of that nasty looking shit bubbling in the cauldron corner because he’s a smelly little witch. </em></p><p>“Alright now, Mr. Grimmjow,” the advisor started, ignoring the glare the man was giving him, “I need some of your blood.”</p><p>A refusal weighed heavy on the tip of his tongue, but remembering the deal, he swallowed it with a snarl, and rolled up the poufy sleeve. This whole ensemble the King had given him was a nightmare—sure his ass looked great, but it looked great in his old pants. Or the prince’s silky pajama pants. And the shirt was just wasted. <em>It’s see through anyway, what’s the point? Other than getting’ a reaction outta Kurosaki.</em></p><p>Grimmjow glared at the now overflowing vial as Kisuke stuck a strange contraption in his arm, looked like a needle with a small glass tube, which quickly collected a small amount of blood. It wasn’t enough to make him dizzy, but enough that it made him uncomfortable. At least he hadn’t taken a knife to a vein like he’d half expected him to do, but what the hell did this guy want with his blood? Szayel had gotten ahold of it once and Grimmjow had been irritated ever since, but if this guy was the actual creator of the Hōgyoku…<em>maybe this isn’t a good idea. </em></p><p>“Would it be possible for you to do a full transformation for me?” The needle was gone and he was turning off the flame, waving the fan over the bubbles, wafting a weird, but not entirely unpleasant smell, around in the room.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>A full transformation wasn’t an option, unless he wanted Grimmjow to murder him violently, not that he wouldn’t mind doing that anyway. But there were other people in the castle he could hurt. He wasn’t in the business of hurting little kids, even if they were kind of annoying. Throw rocks at them, sure, but killing them? He wasn’t a complete monster—not if he could help it, anyway. That and the prince, who by all rights could take care of himself, but not when Grimmjow was shifted and out of his mind with hunger and pain. His weird friends weren’t half bad either, not that he’d admit that out loud to anyone.</p><p>
  <em>Tch. Two days an’ I’m already gettin’ attached. Fuckin’ pathetic. </em>
</p><p>Just because everything wasn’t actively trying to kill him, didn’t mean it was automatically <em>safe.</em> He kept his guard up for a reason, <em>damnit</em>, and there was no way he was gonna drop it after <em>two fuckin’ days.</em> Maybe he should just go back to the forest—there was no way this was going to end well for him, no way he could see, anyway.</p><p>Kisuke frowned at him, studying his reaction and face, but said nothing, as he depressed the weird little…plunger thing and some blood squirted out the needle end, <em>wasting it, apparently</em>, and dripped some of it into the vial. Immediately, the blood turned the mixture a vibrant, sickening greenish-blue and began to fizzle, a smell, something like saltwater and melting iron, coming from it and filling up the room.</p><p>“I take it you have a good reason to refuse? Other than being a thorn in my side, I mean?” The advisor-<em>scientist</em> stuck a couple fingers into the mixture and pulled them out, coating his thumb and forefinger in the disgusting substance. By the way he pulled apart the fingers, the vial’s contents had turned tacky. Grimmjow’s face wrinkled with disgust as he tapped the fingers closer to his face, <em>just to be a dick,</em> he figured.</p><p>“Too close t’the new moon. Not safe.”</p><p>“Ah, I suppose that makes sense,” Kisuke said with a nod, looking down at his tattooed wrist, a thicker waxing crescent now. “A partial transformation, then. What you did with your arm yesterday would suffice.”</p><p>Grimmjow did not suppress a snarl that time, and instead took a step back, towards the shut door, all dark wood and tarnished metal. The advisor made a <em>tsking</em> sound and clicked his tongue twice in his mouth, the sound like someone knocking on the door.</p><p>“Now, now, Mr. Grimmjow. If you want me to see if there’s any chance of curing that curse of yours, I need to see <em>something</em>.” Grimmjow didn’t bite, and the man noticed, sighing dramatically when no moves were made. “Taking a sample of your blood was the most invasive thing I was planning to do, if that makes you feel any better.”</p><p>“It doesn’t.”</p><p>Kisuke stretched his hand out in what was probably supposed to be a welcoming fashion, but the way he clawed his hands out and in a couple times made Grimmjow uneasy. Begrudgingly focusing on his right arm, he called to the dark magic in his bones, the prickling of the velvet fur sprouting from his scarred skin up to his elbow, fingers elongating as a sickening cracking popped throughout the room. Gritting his teeth through the pain of his bones lengthening so suddenly, nails growing and sharpening into slitted stiletto points, black claws, he watched the advisor’s eyes widen while a grin sprouted across his place.</p><p>His hands were on the furred area before the shift had fully completed, not that the man probably cared.  </p><p>“So this meeting,” Grimmjow started, trying to take his mind off the hands invading the shifted area of his arm, currently poking at his sensitive palms. Kisuke flicked his eyes up at Grimmjow’s once before he settled into examining his arm more thoroughly.</p><p> “What do you want to know?”</p><p>“Everything.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------</p><p>Rukia watched with obvious glee as the two men Renji had been sitting with practically drug him away from the table he was still stuffing his fat face with. How he didn’t weigh seven hundred pounds was well above her knowledge, but she suspected he trained at least a <em>little</em> bit. <em>Souls know he doesn’t use all that extra energy on brainpower,</em> she thought, watching as he protested, grabbing a couple bunny rolls from her piled up collection with a scowl on his face as the big man, Chad, pulled him through the swinging door.</p><p>“Ah, sorry about them. They can be pretty forceful when they want,” the prince said, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile on his face. He’d calmed down considerably from earlier, when the other man got him all riled up just for the hell of it. The smile, even if it was a bit clumsy, was a good look for him, she decided, returning the smile with ease.</p><p>When his slut-pirate….boyfriend wasn’t around, the prince was far more reasonable and level headed. Without the distractions of the blue-haired man stuck to his side nearly all morning, Ichigo was hospitable, kind, and ultimately, it was obvious he had a working brain in his head. <em>It just doesn’t work when the other guy is around, apparently.</em></p><p>“It’s not a bad idea though, we should probably show you around the castle as well,” he continued, looking to Orihime and the other woman—Tatsuki was her name, she’d said, and they nodded in return. “We can start inside or out, it doesn’t matter which, whatever you’d prefer.” He grabbed the utensils he’d been using, as well as the ones the slut-pirate had left in his haste to get away from the obnoxious King, and set them back on a different table, giving her time to think of an answer.</p><p><em>How unusual he’s allowing me, someone from a foreign Sovereignty, the choice. Strange people, indeed.</em> Byakuya would never allow such a thing, already having a sure plan of attack on any kind of thing, even something as mundane as a tour. It was strange to see a royal family be so…lax. </p><p>“Let’s start inside, since Renji is outside,” she said to him. He’d let him have his guy time with the two men. Chad and…</p><p>“My sincerest apologies for not remembering, but what was the name of the man in white who went with Renji and Chad?” Rukia looked at the two women as the prince straightened something out behind the table area with a scowl. Orihime’s face lit up with such high speed, Rukia thought she was going to go blind for a moment.</p><p>“His name is Uryu,” she said, smiling so hard Rukia’s face hurt looking at it. “He’s the resident tailor, but he’s also an excellent marksman! Once, I saw him hit a coin that Chad had thrown in the air from like 200 feet away with an arrow and—”</p><p>Tatsuki began to laugh, stopping Orihime from her obvious rant of enamoring for the man. Her face was red as she buried her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed, and shook her head vigorously. Orange hair left loose, shaking back and forth as she did so.</p><p>“The distance gets larger every time!”</p><p>“No it doesn’t!” The sound of her voice was muffled, but she did peek through her fingers at the woman.</p><p>“Last time it was only like a hundred and fifty feet. Just tell him you want to suck his tongue out of his mouth, or something,” Ichigo said coming back around to the three women, giving Orihime a small nudge on her shoulder with his elbow, big shit-eating grin on his face. She smacked him away with an embarrassed shriek at what he’d said, and stuck her tongue out, nose crinkled up in the most adorable way.  </p><p>She mumbled something with a pout on her face, lower lip poking out like a turkey rearing to roost; Ichigo pulled at it as she squealed, Tatsuki laughing beside Rukia, clutching her stomach like she was about to be ill from joviality.</p><p>“Whatever you liar. Anyway, let’s get going on the royal tour,” he said rolling his eyes and striding to the door with long steps. Orihime grabbed a hold of Rukia’s hand and drug her, hand warm in her own, though she was quite capable of walking, but the swinging door opened inward, revealing two girls that looked fairly similar, and one much smaller one, before they could get far.</p><p>“Oh, hi Karin. Yuzu,” Ichigo said, nodding at both of them as he stopped, his back to the women.  </p><p>“And who do we have here?” Ichigo knelt as he asked the question, offering an upturned palm to the child. She was quite small, probably no more than six or seven, with teal-green hair, a faded scar across the bridge of her nose, and a fresh scar on the left side of her face, reaching from her forehead down close to her left eye. She wore a dress in a color similar to her hair with a little bit of lace at the bottom and in the sleeves. Otherwise, it was loose fitting, not sticking to her form in any kind of way and reached to her ankles, revealing small, bare feet wiggling on the stone floor.  </p><p>“Oh, I’m so glad to see you walking,” Orihime said, clapping her hands together once and kneeling beside Ichigo. Rukia could practically feel the warmth radiating off her like a new fire in an old fireplace, reliable and cozy.</p><p>“Yes, she woke up and ate not too long ago,” one of the girls with the lighter hair said. Ichigo had mentioned something about sisters briefly; <em>these two must be the very ones, fraternal twins, by the looks of it.</em></p><p>“Glad to hear it. How are you feeling?” His voice was soft and warm, just as warm as Orihime’s had been.</p><p><em>I hope negotiations work out with this Kingdom; I’d like to get to know it and the people better. They’re so kind. </em>The Seireitei was…efficient. Not cold by any means, but…even she knew how it could be to those who were deemed…unwelcome. There were laws set in stone for a reason, after all.</p><p>Rukia watched as the little one stared between Ichigo and Orihime, a hand going up and touching her newer scar once, but she stayed back, far enough where she could clearly see the little one, but not interact with her in any closeness. This was their place, not hers, but she couldn’t help but look at that scar.</p><p>
  <em>Who would do such a thing to a child? What kind of monster would they have to be?</em>
</p><p>“My name is Ichigo. It’s nice to meet you,” he said as the little girl looked at him with big, hazelish eyes, bottom teeth protruding slightly from her small pout like tiny fangs.</p><p>“Itsugo?” the little girl said in a small, shaky voice. Rukia saw his smile as she moved slowly to the side, wanting to see their reactions better. It was obvious this was their first-time meeting. He smiled warmly back at the girl, and Rukia noticed a small dusting of freckles across his cheekbones.</p><p>“Yeah, that too.”</p><p>The girl stared at him, but did nothing more, her eyes big and, if Rukia didn’t know any better, she’d swear they were turning slightly heart shaped, as her mouth hung open, canine teeth visible from where even she was standing.</p><p>“I’ve told her about you, and everyone else in the castle, while she was unconscious. I figured if she could hear me, at least she wouldn’t be afraid when she woke up! Mr. Urahara said it was a good thing to do as well.” Orihime chattered, standing slowly and turning to Rukia, watching as the girl took a few cautious steps into the room, towards the prince, eyes still transfixed on him. <em>Looks like the slut-pirate has some competition, and she’s cute enough to win. </em></p><p>“We were showing her around the castle; do you want to come with us, Ichi-nii? She seems to like you an awful lot,” the lighter haired twin said. The one with black hair, tied back in a tight, high ponytail, snorted.</p><p>“That’s probably just the headwound.”</p><p>Lighter hair glared at the other, slapping a palm against her arm, a frown of distaste caught on her pale skin.</p><p>Ichigo chuckled a little bit as he stood up to his full height, the little one’s head tilting back as he did so, awe-struck by the man entirely by this point.</p><p>“Some other time, I need to show—”</p><p>“Do not worry about me, Ichigo Kurosaki. If Miss Orihime and Miss Tatsuki are up to it, I will go with them,” Rukia said, cutting him off. <em>Sibling time is more important than this. That, and I’m sure that girl would be heartbroken if I tore him away now.</em> Orihime nodded vigorously at her statement, big smile plastered across her face, pulling a laugh out of Tatsuki.</p><p>“Of course that’s okay!”</p><p>Ichigo looked between them, having some kind of silent conversation with the women, and nodded once.</p><p>“Well, if you’re sure—” He didn’t get a chance to finish, as the little one sprung forward and attached herself to his leg, pushing with all her might against him, trying to force him through the door.</p><p>“Well let’s go!” Rukia was surprised by her shout, as was Ichigo apparently, but he recovered quickly.</p><p>“Alright, alright. Geeze, you’re just as bad as they are,” he said, letting himself get hauled through the door by the three girls, one twin pulling on either arm, little girl still pushing on his leg. Rukia could’ve sworn she bit him once, but the prince didn’t react in a manner indicating so. <em>Then again,</em> she thought, thinking back to the blue-haired man, all sharp teeth and slutty outfit, <em>maybe he’s used to it?</em></p><p>The door swung closed on the group of four, though Rukia could hear them shouting well into the hallway and up the wooden stairs.</p><p>“What a…lively bunch,” Rukia managed to say with a straight face, as Orihime didn’t hold back her bubbly laugh. Tatsuki too snickered some at the antics.</p><p>“Don’t worry, it’s always like this,” she said, patting Rukia on the shoulder a couple times, and pushing her gently towards the door herself. “Anyway, let’s get on with our own tour. How’s this compare to the Seireitei’s castle?”</p><p>They started their exploration of the bottom level first, taking a sharp left after they left the swinging door of the dungeon-ous kitchen, hallways still dimly lit as no windows lined the stone wall. The hall was narrow and up ahead she could see a door leading to the right, and farther up, another to the left. <em>Servant quarters, perhaps? </em></p><p>“Ah, the Seireitei is split up differently than this castle is…” she began, as Orihime and Tatsuki leaned in, ready to hear descriptions of a castle neither had visited before.  </p><p> </p><p>--------------------</p><p>“Yer sayin’, the shitheads in the Seireitei don’t know about Aizen?” Grimmjow’s arms were crossed, black fur over regular, smooth skin, as Kisuke shook his head and sighed, letting his eyes roam around his study. The small blood test he’d run on the few drops of blood he dripped into the bubbling vial had confirmed his suspicious—Grimmjow was more or less, only half cursed, since Aizen didn’t have a complete Hōgyoku.</p><p>A half curse was still potent enough to be dangerous, and in this man’s case, it was even more so, with his temperament. That, and Kisuke hadn’t worked out the details of the curse—Grimmjow had be resolutely tight lipped regarding that matter, even with prodding. It was still unclear whether half was worse than one entirely, but he figured it was definitely within the realm of possibilities.</p><p>“Not quite the takeaway point, Mr. Grimmjow, but I digress. They don’t know our King wishes to discuss him, specifically. It’s a…touchy subject.” Kisuke watched as the blue-haired man’s eye twitched at the formality he knew the man hated. Striding over to the messy desk, the advisor began to pick through papers, looking for the notes he’d made regarding the Hōgyoku a couple weeks ago. Just because the King had taken on a laze-faire appearance for the last decade or so, the orders he’d given Kisuke were anything but. They both agreed it was important to know every imaginable scenario.</p><p>“I’m aware,” Grimmjow said, slit eyes following his movements around the room. <em>Perhaps I should look later, he seems quite irritable.</em></p><p>“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Prince Sasakibe’s death, would you?” <em>I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask, though it seems unlikely. He doesn’t look that old. </em> </p><p>“That happened like fifty years ago, dinnit?”</p><p>Kisuke sighed, “Thirty, actually.”  <em>I figured as much.</em> There was no way the man standing before him was any older than <em>maybe</em> twenty-five, no matter how rough he looked when arrived. He cleaned up nice enough, he supposed; <em>enough that our dearest prince is already quite enamored with him, it seems,</em> he thought, glancing at the band of intent, still dangling around his neck. If the man was anything like he acted, he probably lorded the thing over Ichigo’s head the moment he saw him, and if there were other people around, the prince probably got quite flustered. Good enough, Kisuke decided. The prince could use some excitement in his life; <em>I just wish it didn’t come with a side of Aizen. </em></p><p>“Tch, whatever.”</p><p>Grimmjow hadn’t moved from his spot, feet firmly rooted into the wooden floor, body still understandably tensed. It was obvious he didn’t trust the situation, or Kisuke for that matter, but it was just as well. He wanted out as quickly as possible, and was doing nothing to hide that in his body language. Filing a rouge paper on regarding enchantments on different types of metal into a random drawer in his desk, the advisor tilted his head back, looking at the dirty ceiling.</p><p><em>I should have Jinta or Ururu clean that,</em> he thought, looking at the various spiderwebs, spun like silken, silvery thread, across the beams of the ceiling. The cat Grimmjow had named Pantera has stopped scratching at the door sometime ago, hopefully leaving to go shred a pair of Isshin’s boots.</p><p>“Regardless, if we wish for the Seireitei to cooperate with us regarding Aizen, we will need to tread carefully,” Kisuke looked towards Grimmjow, who had dropped his arms and began to glace around, instead of staring intently at the advisor shuffling half-drunken papers around on a messy desk. “Lord Yamamoto is quite sharp for his old age. He isn’t ruler for his good looks, you know.”</p><p>By the angle of the sun, streaming light through the high window on west side, the morning had stretched to mid-afternoon. The examination had taken longer than Kisuke expected, but at least he’d gotten some decent information out of him, even if it was through mostly grit teeth. Could shift with control closer to the full moon, forcibly compelled to shift on the new moon in a ravenous and bloodthirsty state, killing anything he could get his claws around, but rarely remembers specific details afterwards. From how Girmmjow winced when he just shifted his arm, Kisuke figured the transformation was agonizing if brought on too quickly, though he kept his mouth shut in regards to pain.</p><p>
  <em>His…curse…is probably purified temporarily by the full moon, which is….</em>
</p><p>Kisuke wandered back over to Grimmjow, who noticeably tensed up as the advisor got closer, and held his hand out for his still-shifted arm, a silent ask to see it once more. The man leveled him an<em> ‘again’</em> look, but complied…eventually, fist curled up into a tight ball of sharp claws. <em>This fur must act as some kind of armor, I wonder….</em></p><p>Grabbing a pair of small, silver tweezers, Kisuke pulled a longer piece of the fur, ripping it out with the follicle still attached. A small growl emanated from the man beside him, and he stole a glance—jaw tense and tight, eyes narrowed in a harsh, cold, glare.</p><p>“Fur fetishist.”</p><p>“I take personal offence to that,” Kisuke said, leveling him an exasperated look, one corner of his mouth pulled up, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Depositing the single hair into a small, glass tube, he set it down on his alchemy table to look at later. Kisuke had given the situation some thought, and while he may be saving the prince from certain…harsh truths, the fact remained that Grimmjow wouldn’t be unknown forever. This was going to be tricky. Perhaps he should….</p><p>“Consider telling Ichigo. Or them.” The look Grimmjow glared at him could’ve melted iron in the far northern tundra.</p><p>“I ain’t tellin’ anyone shit. Who’s them?” Kisuke pinched the bride of his nose. <em>Refuse first, ask later, huh?</em> Walking back around his desk, towards the door leading into a different, more…practical workshop, half-hidden by three towers of thick, dark leather books, where a small niche in the wall pressed the wood back in a small arch; a picture of the late-Kaien hung, dusted in cobwebs and faded with time. Isshin had taken it down soon after he died, but Kisuke never found it in himself to get rid of it completely, the cold, brown eyes of the man had always bothered Kisuke, not that he'd ever said anyting to Isshin regarding the matter. Like they were still watching him, even after death. AS unnerving as it was, he kept it, hidden away in the small niche, a cursed reminder. </p><p>“The Seireitei officials. When they come for the meeting. You are protected, after all.” The ring could only do so much, but Isshin wasn’t about to throw his best lead into the fire—maybe for trying to…<em>play with the lock</em>…as he had so…eloquently put it, but that was a personal vendetta, not a political one. And Ichigo may be less upset if it came from the man directly, instead of second hand.</p><p>“Fuck that. I wanna kill Aizen, not take a long dirt nap right-fuckin’-now.” Kisuke sighed, figuring that would be his response.  <em>He sounds like he was raised by sailors.</em>  </p><p>“Fair enough. Regardless, your former affiliation will be brought into the light eventually. It will help some hear from you sooner, rather than later.” <em>Ichigo</em>, he thought,<em> it will help Ichigo. </em>But telling the Seireitei who and what exactly he was may give them an upper hand, especially since the meeting was held in Karakura rather than in the Seireitei. </p><p>Then again, it could also get him killed, if Lord Yamamoto had anything to say about it. Kisuke hadn’t dealt with the Sovereignty for quite a few years, and even he was prone to rust. While he was <em>certain</em> their policies had changed very little, people grew and changed. Came and went. If the two new faces in the kitchens earlier this morning were anything to go by, this may work out in their favor sooner rather than later, but the price may be a steep one. One Kisuke wasn’t sure they could afford, especially if Ichigo had a say in it.</p><p>“Yer fuckin’ insane,” Grimmjow said as he pushed away from the advisor with his normal arm, keeping the right covered in its velvety blackness, it was a lot softer than Kisuke had anticipated it being, especially since it <em>was</em>, essentially, fur. The slight smell of sulfur, mixed with blood being… boiled, had long since dissipated, being replaced with an old smell, a mix of aged perfume and older leather, like a bottle had spilled on one of his tomes, and left in the sun to dry.   </p><p>“Usually, yes, “Kisuke said, following the man around his desk, more to make sure he didn’t disorder is orderly chaos of papers, research, and writings with his clawed hand, but at a distance. No need to make him more irritated than he already was. His hair was standing slightly on end, a side effect perhaps, of the half-curse, making him look more animalistic by the second. “But try to see the point. Please understand, Mr. Grimmjow, we of Karakura want justice as well.”</p><p>“Tch. Justice is a careless bitch. I want revenge.” Glaring once behind him, the man stepped forward, towards the niche in the wall, and stopped, head snapping forward.</p><p> “ I understand that as well, but think of….”</p><p>Kisuke trailed off, watching as furred, velvet armor rocketed up his arm, until it met his shoulder violently, the whole arm almost dislocating by the suddenness of the motion, jerking back forcefully, clawed hand spasming, nails elongating even further.</p><p>The advisor took a short step back, perplexed by the sudden change. <em>What is happening?</em></p><p>“<em>What the fuck are you playin’ at,”</em> Grimmjow hissed, turning on him between blinks, unsheathing the dagger and aiming it for the man’s exposed throat.</p><p> Kisuke noticed one of his eyes was completely black, voice starting to split tones on words with hard consonants. <em>An involuntary shift reaction? This isn’t good.</em></p><p>Holding his hands up and away from his body, directing his eyes somewhere right at the crown of Grimmjow’s head, and crouched down slightly, letting the already larger man appear even more so, Kisuke hoped the body language was enough to say <em>don’t attack me please</em>.</p><p>“Grimmjow,” he said slowly, between deep breaths, enunciating both syllables carefully. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“<em>That,”</em> he seethed out between elongated fangs, the right side having double the amount of a normal humans, as he jerked his head back once, at Kaien’s faded portrait. Kisuke’s brows furrowed in confusion, mouth opening and closing once, not sure what to make of that.</p><p>
  <em>Did Grimmjow…know Kaien?</em>
</p><p>At a loss, Kisuke watched the fur on his arm prickle sharply, hackles raising even higher, if that were possible, shifted arm shaking somewhere between rage and pain as his fingers curled, white-knuckled, against the dagger’s handle, enchantment violently sparking a deep, bloody crimson. A savage, internally based spell, fueled by a level of rage Kisuke hadn’t felt in decades. <em>Oh boy.</em></p><p>As another blink of his eyes passed, Grimmjow had moved again, closer, knocking the green hat off his head onto the floor far behind him, human fingers digging into his scalp and holding his head still, yanking his head back and exposing his neck even more, as the tip of the dagger barely pushed against the side of his neck, close to a <em>very</em> important vein.</p><p>“<em>You’ve been workin’ with’em the whole fuckin’ time—”</em> his voice was noticeably two toned now, other eye beginning to cloud over, pupils nothing but a stiletto slit in his iris, sclera completely pitch.</p><p>“Grimmjow, what are you,” the advisor choaked out, feeling the dagger tremble ever so slightly in front of the clawed hand gripping it. Fingers twitched in his hair, a warning. Grimmjow’s fight or flight had kicked in like a cannon ball to the face, though it was more like a <em>stab </em>or <em>claw</em> reflex, neither of which Kisuke wanted to be on the end he currently found himself.</p><p>“We need to talk about this.” Kisuke was going for calm, and he mostly succeeded. He’d been in worse situations, but that didn’t mean he liked being on the wrong end of a knife, wielded by a dangerous combination of frightened and enraged cat-man-cursed-beast-thing.</p><p>Out of Grimmjow’s wild-eyed sight, Kisuke turned his hand, aiming fingertips towards the man’s abdomen, but careful not to touch for fear it would set him off prematurely, slicing across his neck without reservations. Even now, it looked like the man was barely retaining his consciousness.</p><p>The guttural, low growl he got in response agreed. <em>Alright, but you leave me no choice. </em>Low level kido was most likely a no-go, given the situation, Kisuke reasoned, as the hand in his hair forced his head back far enough to bring discomfort, the vertebrae in his neck groaning, cracking slightly, in pain. Dagger rotated slightly, pressing the flat side flush against his throat hard, razored edge very close to digging in on both top and bottom edge.  </p><p>“Ba…” Grimmjow cocked his head slightly, fully black eye twitching once as Kisuke watched the fur spread to his shoulder under the thin fabric of Isshin’s slutty shirt. “..ku..do…sixty-three,” Kiskue continued, as light erupted from the fingertips of his right hand, the one aimed at Grimmjow’s torso. “Sajo Sabaku.”</p><p>Pale yellow—almost white light—blinding, woven ropes shot from the advisor’s fingertips and wrapped around Grimmjow, pulling the clawed hand away, and more importantly, letting the dagger drop to the floor, as it bound the other to his chest in much the same fashion.</p><p>But his legs were still free, and that posed a problem Kisuke didn’t want to deal with either. Clearing his throat and rubbing a hand on his achy neck, he called out another spell with a surprising lack of urgency, placing a foot directly on top of the dagger and kicking it backwards, well out of Grimmjow’s reach.</p><p>“Bakudo number 4, Hainawa.”</p><p>A thinner, yellow chord wrapped around the struggling man’s legs and Kisuke pulled tight, bringing the blue-haired beast to his knees, snarling all the way down, struggling against the woven magic, binding his arms to his sides as long as Kisuke could keep him.</p><p>By the way he thrashed, velvet sprouting on the other arm now, reaching up to his elbow, it wouldn’t be long if he couldn’t get the man to calm down. Holding a single palm out near his head, but not close enough to be caught in double fanged teeth, he sucked in a breath and steadied himself.</p><p>“Bakudo number fifty-nine, Keikatsu.”</p><p>Golden light enveloped around Grimmjow’s body, it’s main goal, even though it was a healing spell, was to soothe the man, if the spell was tweaked slightly. Focusing the most potent energy of the spell directly at Grimmjow’s skull, Kisuke watched as his breathing steadied out, still shallow, but not so forced or quick, and the velvet armor began to retreat from his shoulder, the left arm’s fur disappearing altogether.</p><p>His arm was shaking with the strain, and as the fur retracted, farther down his arm, Kisuke saw the angry red cracks in his skin, blood beginning to seep through before Keikatsu could heal it. The advisor assumed it was a too fast transformation which brought on such wounds, since his forearms were littered in similar pale scars.</p><p>“Please listen to me, Grimmjow,” he started, dropping the mister, since it would only add fuel to this forest fire of a man, “I need you to tell me what you mean.”</p><p>What on earth would cause such a violent reaction? If the entire shift was that quick and painful, Kisuke wondered how the man was still alive. <em>To shift and lengthen bone so quickly, then for it to shrink to its normal size once more, the strain on his body…it must be enormous. </em></p><p>A small pang of guilt pinched his stomach—this had all happened because of the Hōgyoku, because they were careless and let it fall into the wrong hands. <em>If merely half of the gem is this powerful, it should never be fully reunited. </em></p><p>When did this start? His arm, it just…erupted in black fur when…<em>when he saw the picture.</em></p><p>“Grimmjow the man in the picture…do you know him?”</p><p>The man spat onto the floor what looked like blood—he’d probably bit his tongue with those lethal teeth of his. It’s a wonder he still had a tongue, among other things, but his eyes were beginning to clear, the black retreating from widened sclera, rage still boiling within them.</p><p>Kisuke knelt in front of him, keeping his distance still, one hand holding tightly onto Hainawa while the other was still up, focusing the healing magic on inside turmoil instead of physical wounds, with limited effects, apparently.</p><p>Grimmjow let loose a feral growl, voice still split between tones, dissonant sounding, probably a tritone apart, and struggled against the bindings.</p><p>“Have…have you seen Kaien before,” Kisuke asked again, voice softer, confused…maybe even a little vulnerable. Grimmjow noticed something on his face and growled again.</p><p>Eye twitching, nose scrunched up in disgust, upper lip pulled back in a sneer, Grimmjow spat blood directly on his haori, hitting his left side and dripping onto his arm. Kisuke frowned. <em>At least I have more for research, I suppose. </em></p><p>Other than blatant disrespect, the man said nothing, still intently focusing on his face, looking for…something. Kisuke wasn’t quite sure what the man was searching for, or how to show a physical manifestation of <em>truth</em>, even though he didn’t use it all that much, but he tried again, letting a bit of concern wash over his features as well.  </p><p>“Tell me, and you can leave,” he started, changing tactics, earning a shocked, yet distrustful, look, eyes narrowing to a glare a second after, overshadowing the first glance quickly. <em>Ah, that got his attention.</em></p><p>“Even if it’s to return to the forest.” Kisuke had no intention of letting him get that far, but that was a problem for a little later. This was not a good place to do any kind of fighting, the space too narrow and cramped, but outside…there were other options of restraint.</p><p>“But no harm must come to any occupants of the castle, unless you want me to kill you now,” Kisuke finished, voice low and serious, eyes staring directly into blue eyes, trying to will the seriousness of the current situation into the man’s thick, blue-headed skull.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow looked like he was thinking, weighing the options as much as he could in his still slightly frantic state, eyes darting back and forth in the room quickly, <em>trying to find the dagger perhaps,</em> but after a few minutes of deliberation, he locked his eyes, almost glowing a vibrant blue, <em>side effect perhaps,</em> onto Kisuke’s once more, mind made up.</p><p>Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he answered the advisor’s question with a ragged hiss, waiting for the man to release him with twitching limbs. Kisuke felt his arms go lax as brows raised high near his forehead.</p><p>Blood thundering in his ears, he released the kido spells entangling the man's limbs, including Keikatsu, disappearing without so much as a whisper, until Grimmjow rushed past him in a breath of cold air, feet thundering across the wooden floor as he threw open the door and disappeared into the hallway, footsteps suddenly silent. <em>He's faster than I anticipated.</em></p><p>At the pace he was running he’d be outside the castle in no time, but there was time to stop him still, as Kisuke stood, crossing his arms, a curled finger moving towards his chin in thought. <em>Well, that certainly explains things,</em> he thought. His suspicious all but confirmed, he moved to the door, closing it behind him with a soft thud.  </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s words echoed through his skull, bright and painful. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“That's Aizen—an’ he sure as hell ain’t dead.”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:D<br/>Dun, dun, duuuunn!!!<br/>I apologize for the long wait, I indulged my Folklore series for a few weeks and I have trouble working on two things at once (or one thing at once, sometimes). I hope the whole Kaien=Aizen thing is clear enough and not...like widely hated, I know this is definitely not canon by any means (which is why it's marked as an AU, but still). Regardless, it still makes me nervous, but I think that's just half of my personality at this point.<br/>I'd like to try to have something for the Grimmichibigbang valentine's thingy, but we'll see. I'm not the most active as far as participation in events (see nerves).<br/>Anyway, thank so much for reading!! I've really enjoyed writing this so far, and I hope those of you that have made it this far are  enjoying it too! I appreciate all the nice comments yall have made as well, it's nice to know you're enjoying my little writing side hobby😊😊😊🧡💙 stay safe!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Revelation Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Grimmjow can see the hole in the wall. He's almost there, almost. So close to getting out of his hellhole.<br/>Too bad something stops him anyway. Didn't they see he was in a hurry?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This may shed some light on the past revelation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grimmjow followed his racing feet outside, heading to the open part of the eastern wall he’d come in with the prince only days before. If he could cross that threshold, he could shift, and get the fuck away from this hellhole. A full transformation would suck <em>ass</em> and hurt like a bitch, but what other choice did he have? These people…they knew the man that killed his pack…had turned him into…</p><p>He could see it, the crumbled portion of an old wall, some kind of gate meant to keep people <em>out</em>. <em>Damn this castle. Damn that prince.</em> <em>And damn these stupid fuckin’ pants.</em> Ignoring the stupid ring dancing around, and trying to ignore what little give the pants had, he ran towards his goal, flicking his gaze down at his arm.</p><p>It had shifted again.</p><p> Maybe it had never quite left.</p><p>Running away wasn’t in his nature, but the shift happened unexpectantly, it had only ever done that on black nights, never after. Something was wrong with him. Maybe it was a reflex? Was he trying to protect himself? That had never happened before—and he’d been in much worse situations. Why now?</p><p>Besides, this was a <em>tactical retreat. </em>That room was too small, unnerving in all the multicolored vials. The advisor/scientist had gotten under his skin and stayed like some kind of parasite.  Castle too confining, even in its enormity. Stone walls never made him feel safe before, and they weren’t about to start now.</p><p>
  <em>“…jow!...”</em>
</p><p>That stupid advisor had looked…like…<em>like he didn’t even know.</em></p><p>That’s not right. That couldn’t be right?</p><p>How could someone <em>not</em> know?</p><p>Everything…the king…the advisor...the prince…it was all a trap.</p><p>Szayel had saw— <em>knew</em> Grimmjow was still alive, and now he was being <em>hunted like prey, and damnit he wasn’t.</em> He was a fuckin’ <em>predator</em> who tore and ripped through flesh like it was paper, his fangs, long, sharp, and with a small curve, could shatter bones in an instant, nothing could withstand his frenzied claws for long.</p><p>But he’d fallen for it. All because the prince was some fun to irritate pretty boy with a hero-complex and a really soft bed. And he wasn’t afraid of him, the mouthy little shit. His friends weren’t too bad either. Grimmjow shook the thoughts from his head, sweat rolling off his brow. The air was heavy with moisture; it was probably going to rain some more, and soon by the looks of it.</p><p>He wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on his straw mattress again. With all the rain, it was probably wet. And moldy. The mushrooms it grew were never very edible. <em>Fuck,</em> he wasn’t looking forward to mattress mushrooms again. They tasted like slobbered on hay and candle wax.</p><p>
  <em>“…mjow!...”</em>
</p><p>His heart was beating about two thousand beats a minute, head throbbing, dull, fuzzy sight. His eyes were working, at least. He knew the whites of his eyes were normal…probably, the blackness fading earlier, when Kisuke used that…<em>healing </em>spell on him.</p><p><em>That’s the same one ‘Hime used; her’s was better.</em> And more powerful.</p><p>
  <em>“…immjow!” </em>
</p><p>But if he shifted beyond the wall, even in the forest somewhere, who’s to say he wouldn’t turn back and hunt the castle grounds? If he shifted, he’d lose control, waxing crescent be damned; his control wasn’t that great when he did it on purpose anyway, and with it just…<em>happening</em>, he didn’t like the thought. Aizen or not, he still didn’t kill kids, and from what he saw, that castle was crawling with them.</p><p>It didn’t feel like Aizen had been in the castle recently, maybe they were telling the truth?</p><p>Maybe they really didn’t know.</p><p>So then what? Where did that leave him? Should he go back? <em>Could he go back?</em> If he just…stopped and turned around?</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>Going back wasn’t an option. They were affiliated. The prince had that bastard’s blood running through his veins. Grabbing the chain bouncing around his neck, he hesitated pulling it off and throwing it into the cold ground, leaving it to rust and sink.</p><p>
  <em>Two days and they’ve already turned me into some kinda weak-minded puss—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Grimmjow!”</em>
</p><p>He heard his name shouted exactly three and a half seconds before a solid weight knocked into his left side, wrapping around his torso like chains, tying him to the ground as he went down, knees buckling under the sudden impact.</p><p>The ground was still a little wet and cold as he flipped onto his back clawed hand going right for what barreled into him, cutting easily through the thin fabric of the shirt and into soft flesh. <em>Serves them right for touching me.</em> He felt blood coat his clawed-out hands and reached to drag them across their neck, but a hand caught his.</p><p>“Ouch, you shithead, watch it!”</p><p>Kurosaki.</p><p>That was Kurosaki’s voice.</p><p>Looking down, he saw orange, spikey hair, a deep, pained frown cut on his face, matched only by the ferocity of his glare. One of the ginger’s arms was wrapped tightly around Grimmjow’s torso still, the other had grabbed a hold of his shifted arm at the wrist, trying to pin it behind him on the wet ground. The blood dripping down, one drop hitting his cheek was Kurosaki’s. Kurosaki’s blood. The blood he shared with…with….</p><p><em>Fuck that,</em> he thought, a growl escaping from his throat, fighting back the arm pushing the velvet fur to the ground, <em>the only thing I hate more than wet feet is wet fur. </em></p><p>Grimmjow tried to knee the prince away, and pushed with his normal hand, right against the solid, <em>unexpected</em> wall of muscle in his chest, but he twisted slightly to the left, avoiding the knee altogether.</p><p>Trying to focus on the enchantment on his bracers was leaving him with blisters bubbling underneath the leather and he felt wetness soaking into his back. <em>Shit.</em></p><p>“What the hell is going on? Why are you running? What’s up with your arm?”</p><p>Grimmjow didn’t fight the groan that fled from his throat, head thumping against the sloppy ground, getting mud in his hair…<em>again.</em> Kurosaki’s hand was still on his shifted wrist, right on top of the bracer. If he could just….</p><p>“Get the fuck off me.”</p><p>Kurosaki didn’t move, instead, shifting his weight so he was damn near straddling him, a leg on either side of his hips, but kept his weight off. His other hand slipped from Grimmjow’s waist to pushing on the hand on his own chest, wrapping long fingers around it and squeezing, trying to pry it off.</p><p>“What happened?” Grimmjow couldn’t stand the concern hidden in his voice like lace. There wasn’t a <em>damn</em> thing wrong with him, and even if there was, there was no way this idiot could do <em>anything about it.</em> Grimmjow tried to focus once again, eyes fluttering shut for a split second, as he forced the bubbling heat of the enchantment through the worn leather, and directly into Kurosaki’s grabby palm.</p><p>“<em>Fuck you,”</em> he hissed, letting go and jolting off him, like he’d been struck by lightning. The way the sky was looking, it may not be long before that could become a very real possibility. Grimmjow gathered himself from the ground soon after, standing as straight as he could manage, but he could feel the eyes watching him, wrists burning so hot he could feel his hands tremble slightly.</p><p> That shitty advisor was probably around somewhere, watching. Waiting. Going back to his shack may not be the best idea then, if that was the case. But what else could he do then? The forest wasn’t safe a night without shelter, though there were quite a few caves. Maybe he could move between those for a while. Lay low. As low as someone could with a fucked up body and blue hair, anyway.  </p><p>“Touch me again, an’ I’ll tear yer throat out,” Grimmjow said in a deep growl, vibrating the back of his throat, looking to Kurosaki with narrowed eyes, twitching in irritation, and holding up his clawed hand towards him, closing in into a fist one threatening finger at a time, until they were prickling his own palms. Kurosaki’s mouth dropped open, eyes going wide.</p><p>“Grimmjow your arm—” Kurosaki took a step closer to him on the muddy ground, making a squishing sound as loose mud wrapped around his boot like he stepped in a pile of steaming shit, eyes locked on his furred arm, hair raised on end in a warning.</p><p>“Take another step, an’ I’ll gut ya.” Grimmjow recognized the two-toned consonants and collected himself, taking a deep breath, holding, and exhaling slowly. If he lost it now, he would be killed, one way or another. The whole fuckin’ town would be after him, and he didn’t need that right now.</p><p> Kurosaki already saw it, so there wasn’t much point of hiding anything, anyway, the nosey, good-for-nothing shithead. <em>‘Least those two days were kinda nice while they lasted.</em> The ginger stopped and raised up his hands, as if in surrender.</p><p>“Okay, okay, but can you at least tell me what happened? You were running like something was chasing you.”</p><p>He grit his teeth so hard he could’ve sworn he heard a cracking sound, but felt no accompanying pain, so he filed that under things to think about later. If it wasn’t a fang, it didn’t matter much anyway.</p><p>Looking around, as if to steady himself, Grimmjow noticed he was probably only fifty or so feet from the crumbled section of wall. The grass around the fallen stone was bright green, grateful for the amount of rain, but not tall, since it hadn’t been very warm yet. Even now, he could feel the chill seeping through the thin fabric of the shirt, not to mention the wetness on his back from where he’d landed. It was probably a shitty brown color too, since they were in a lower part of the grounds where water pooled.</p><p>The rest of the wall was mostly in decent shape, except for this once small part, and probably at least seven feet high, if he had to guess. He’d never seen it in daylight before, though with the clouds rolling in, it didn’t look like they’d have that luxury for much longer. He flicked his gaze back over to the prince, who hadn’t moved, though his hands were a little lower, body still noticeably tensed.</p><p>The prince didn’t have his sword, he noticed. He’d had it earlier, <em>must’ve taken it off after I left…</em>. Judging by the fading light of the clouds and the lowness of the sun, it was probably somewhere between middle and late afternoon. <em>Today has really sucked,</em> he thought, resigned.</p><p>“Aizen happened,” Grimmjow said, looking back towards the dilapidated portion of wall.</p><p>“Okay. I kind of figured that much out myself.”</p><p>Tch. Leave it to that idiot to decide to be a cheeky little shit at a time like this. Maybe he’d kill the prince for the hell of it. He felt a killing mood prickle his shoulders.</p><p>“Well did you figure Aizen and Kaien being the same person? Cuz I sure as shit didn’t,” Grimmjow spat out in the direction of the ginger.</p><p>Grimmjow watched as the kid’s face filtered through a wide array of emotions. Confusion, anger, sadness, back to anger, guilt, back to anger <em>again. Maybe a wide array was a generous statement.</em></p><p>“What are you fucking talking about—”</p><p>“Th’ picture in th’ shitty advisor’s room—it’s Aizen.”</p><p>Kurosaki’s hands found the thin collar of his father’s horny shirt before Grimmjow could react in a meaningful way. <em>Damn he’s fast.</em> Shirt so thin, as the prince’s hands fisted into the fabric and pulled him close enough where he could physically see even the tiniest freckles around the corners of his eyes, Grimmjow heard the distinct sound of fabric ripping.</p><p>“You’re <em>lying,”</em></p><p>Grimmjow seized the prince’s wrists but the man refused to let go, eyes full of a raged confusion.</p><p>“You think I’d <em>lie—”</em> Grimmjow tugged at the kid’s wrists, pulling him so close he could feel the hot, ragged breath on his face.</p><p>“Unfortunately, what Mr. Grimmjow is saying is most likely the truth. He reacted quite violently to the portrait,” a voice to his right said. Jerking his head in the direction, he saw that damned advisor, blocking the only easy exit he could see currently, cutting his escape prospects without significant violence by one hundred and eighty five percent. How did he catch up to him so fast? Grimmjow thought he’d left the guy in a stupor in the middle of his floor. And how did he not notice him until now?</p><p>Growling, Grimmjow snapped his teeth at the advisor, hands tightening, probably painfully, around Kurosaki’s trapped wrists.</p><p>Fingers curled into the now ripped fabric loosened slightly, and Grimmjow used the opportunity to force him away, ripping the collar almost completely away from the poorest excuse of a shirt Grimmjow had ever had the misfortune to wear. Most of his upper chest was visible now, the band dangling from the silver chain around his neck like an anchor weighing him down.</p><p>“What…what do you mean? What are you talking about?”</p><p>Kisuke sighed, and took off his stupid hat, holding it tightly against his chest, gray eyes almost…sad.</p><p>“The king’s late brother and Aizen are one in the same person, according to our source here.” Kisuke nodded at him, but maintained a careful distance. Grimmjow did the same, as the enchantment fizzled on his wrists, still burning his skin. That was a problem for later, as Kisuke opened his mouth again.</p><p>“You’re <em>positive</em> the portrait you saw, and the man we know as Aizen, are the same person?”</p><p>“You think I woulda hightailed it outta there if I didn’t?” Shooting the man a glare did very little to calm his nerves, but it did make him feel slightly better when the advisor flinched.</p><p>“I suppose not.”</p><p>“Does my fath—”</p><p>“No. Not yet, anyway. I will take care of that.” Then it was Grimmjow’s turn to flinch. He didn’t want to be around when that talk happened. That sounded like a whole lotta nope.</p><p>“Grimmjow there is one thing you don’t know about Kaien, though I’m not sure if it would make a difference to you right now,” Kisuke continued, turning fully to him, taking the smallest step forward.</p><p>“Tch, probably not.” There wasn’t a damned thing this idiot could say that would make him feel any better. Other than explicitly proving his death, of course. That would help.</p><p>“Kaien was the first person taken under the wing of the castle. He is not blood. Isshin found him when he was a boy, and took him back to the castle to help him, and he never left.”</p><p>Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the confession, but <em>damned</em> if he was gonna admit like an <em>idiot</em> that what he said did make him feel a little bit better. At least that meant he and Kurosaki didn’t share the same fucked up bloodline. Speaking of Kurosaki, he looked…lost. While unwelcome to these things, Grimmjow had become accustomed to dealing with them, at least a little, but this guy had gotten a shit ton thrown at him the last couple of days.</p><p>
  <em>Tch, he just needs to man up.</em>
</p><p>“So…my father’s fake brother is responsible for killing my mother?”</p><p>Kiskue let out an audible sigh, like it came directly from his feet, emptying out every last bit of air in his body, and flicked his eyes to Grimmjow’s once. Grimmjow tensed. <em>If that idiot lays it on him what I think he’s going to, I’m killin’ both of them. </em>Kurosaki didn’t look nearly as wild eyed and desperate as when Grimmjow had fought him in the forest, so that was…something, he supposed. But if the advisor blurted out that Grimmjow was actually an espada, that may be enough for him to break.</p><p>“Ah,…in a word. Yes.”</p><p>Grimmjow secretly thanked Kisuke for letting him keep his secret a while longer, and watched as Kurosaki’s jaw clenched and tightened under tanned skin, his lips in a tight line, chewing lightly on his bottom one. The look in his eyes was one of weariness, a bone deep exhaustion that Grimmjow understood all too well.</p><p>As honeyed eyes flicked up to Grimmjow’s face, stalling on his still shifted arm, cocking his head to the side only slightly, his eyes widened slightly, like something clicked into place. <em>Oh shit.</em></p><p>“And he’s responsible for you too, isn’t he,” Kurosaki asked, eyes focused only on Grimmjow in that instant, and he felt his stomach drop.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------</p><p>Ichigo wasn’t upset, really. The picture on the wall was someone he’d never met. Just a face with a name attached to it, but not one he’d ever gotten to know outside of the two stories his father had told him on the two occasions he was a little drunk on some of Yoruichi’s home-brew. <em>Come to think of it, that’s probably where I get my tolerance from, or lack thereof, anyway,</em> Ichigo thought as he watched Grimmjow tense up at his words.</p><p>Apart from that, everything kind of made sense. Grimmjow’s arm had been a shock, but really, that was what solidified it for him. He knew the creeps name in the forest when he’d helped Ichigo what felt like a lifetime ago, but was only a little over a week.</p><p>Aizen had killed his pack because the pack once…<em>once was working with Aizen. Or under him or something. </em>The way he’d been reluctant to say much anything regarding the manner was another tip off. <em>I mean, it also seems like a personality thing, but…</em>. And the <em>bandages</em>. He was definitely hiding something. Remembering the number he told him he saw, he wondered if that would have something to do with it.</p><p>And it just so happened it was his not-so-dead uncle turned Aizen who had been the mastermind of it all. <em>He</em> was the one responsible for killing his mother, knife or no. He may not have held the blade that slit her throat, but he’d given the orders. That was good enough for Ichigo to…he wasn’t sure if it was possible to hate someone he’d never met, but rage burned at his insides at the mere thought of it all. Grimmjow had plenty of opportunity to kill him, so he wasn’t worried if he was still affiliated with the group. But did that mean Grimmjow…did he know who….</p><p>Ichigo moved his eyes from Grimmjow’s and let them wander down his arm, the one with what looked like smooth black armor. <em>Is that fur?</em> Noticing the claws, still dripping with blood, Ichigo sighed. <em>His </em>blood, thank you very much. For having such an optimistic start to the day, it rolled into a pile of hot garbage pretty quickly. Whatever. At least Grimmjow hadn’t bolted as soon as he got back up.</p><p>The scratches on his back hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure they were bleeding if the wetness on his back was anything to go by.</p><p>“You were an espada, weren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, but he did want to hear him say <em>something </em>directly. Did he know the man that killed his mother? He’d have to ask, wanted too, but right this minute seemed like a bad time. The man looked one slight away from going completely feral, and the drop of blood on his face wasn’t helping that look. While the question burned on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed it for now. If he convinced him to stay for a little while longer, he’d find a good time to ask.  </p><p>Grimmjow looked at him briefly before turning a seething glare on Urahara. <em>He probably figured it out first, knowing him.</em> And if he knew, <em>then Dad probably knows too.</em> Ichigo tried to stamp out his ire for the secret keepers, dousing that dynamite stick in water and hoping for the best. He had all the time to be pissed at them, right now, he needed to get Grimmjow back to the castle, <em>before</em> the rain started, hopefully.  </p><p>“Ah, I suppose I will leave you two be; I’d rather not get caught in the rain. I’m afraid I’d melt,” Urahara said as he turned around with a small grin. <em>Seriously, nothing gets to the guy,</em> Ichigo thought as he watched the retreating form, until he blended into the background like an annoying piece of scraggly, uncut grass.</p><p>Somehow, Ichigo figured he still knew Grimmjow was giving him the middle finger as they watched him go, waving once at them, but not bothering to turn around. Where he’d come from, Ichigo had no idea—he could pop out of nowhere at the drop of his stupid hat. <em>He probably used a silencing spell because he’s a cheater.</em></p><p> </p><p>“So who all knows? Besides me, I mean.” Ichigo turned back towards the blue-haired man, looking with an expression he hoped was…calm? Ichigo hadn’t truly been calm in…three years or so, so it was hard to tell.</p><p>Looking at the fabric dangling around his shoulders, Ichigo frowned; he hadn’t meant to rip his shirt, but the material was incredibly thin. Not that he didn’t mind the nice view of his exposed collar bones down to his sternum. The shirt had enough material it was still hanging off him, but only by a couple inches on each side, the rip extending far towards his shoulders on each side. Maybe he was just…destined to go shirtless when he was around Ichigo.</p><p>Grimmjow didn’t look like he was going to answer, his gaze flicking back to Ichigo, lips set in a tight line. The blue of his eyes seemed…different, darker. Similar to how his eyes looked when he first told him he thought the espada were the one responsible for his mother’s death.</p><p>Ichigo rubbed a thumb over his blistered palms. The idiot had gathered magic into his stupid bracers and just…let it sit there like an idiot. He wouldn’t be surprised if the damn things were almost melted to his skin. If he could talk to him, calm him down, maybe he could get him to Orihime. Thankfully Chad, Uryu, and Renji had finished with their little outside escapade earlier and were now back in the castle. Or they were when Ichigo ran into them before he went outside himself and spotted Grimmjow headed for the hole in the wall like a criminal on the run.</p><p>Another jolt of thunder rumbled overhead, louder this time. The weather was going to break soon, and by the looks of it, they would get to be outside to witness it firsthand. Dark clouds rolling in front of the sun, overtaking the sunshine completely and making the grounds look even more shadowed.</p><p>“Yer old man knows too,” Grimmjow said, one hand on his wrist, tugging at the bracer, and he caught a glimpse of red, bloody flesh underneath. Ichigo watched as the black fur receded down his arm, to his hand and slowly disappeared altogether, taking the claw-like fingernails along with it. <em>Good riddance, my back is bleeding.</em></p><p>“Figured as much. Are they the only ones?”</p><p>“Who told you?” Grimmjow undid his left bracer completely, and slipped it off, grimacing as the leather slid across wounded skin, and shoved it under one arm, blood dripping onto the ground. Ichigo grimaced as he watched the man flick his tongue over the area a couple times, bringing blood up on his tongue.</p><p>“I figured it out myself,” Ichigo mumbled, watching the scene unfold. Red sparks sizzled around the area as he kept cleaning the area. Grimmjow glared at him, as Ichigo knew his face twisted up with a disgusted look. <em>That’s…so unsanitary.</em></p><p>“Didn’t know you had that many smarts to rub together.”</p><p>Ichigo didn’t answer as he watched a bead of sweat roll down Grimmjow’s neck and lower, over his collar bone and left pectoral as the man kept at it. Before long, Ichigo noticed that the bleeding had stopped, the skin less red and blistered. Giving one last lick on the area, he slipped the bracer back on, tightened it, and started on the other one. Turning his gaze skyward, Ichigo watched the clouds roll around in the sky, dark and heavy with rain. A drop hit his face, right under his left eye. Blinking and wiping it away, Ichigo looked back towards Grimmjow, who was tending to the other wrist, the one once covered by black fur. It was significantly less burned.  </p><p> </p><p>“So now what,” Ichigo asked, turning his gaze to the tall stone walls of the castle. He couldn’t help thinking it looked like it blended right in, especially with the ominous sky.</p><p>Would Grimmjow even want to come back to the castle? Really, there was nothing there for him. Other than Ichigo, no one really knew him all that well, and even then, Ichigo knew less than he’d like, Kisuke and his father were bastards, and there was a group of most likely enemies to him coming to the castle tomorrow. If Ichigo were in his shoes, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Hell, looking at him, getting off with a few scratches on his back was probably the best-case scenario. <em>Well, the best-case scenario would’ve been my father not adopting Aizen into the family, but that’s a moot point now. </em></p><p>Grimmjow looked at him as he tightened the bracer back around his wrist, satisfied in his healing, or whatever it was, still not moving from his spot. <em>Did Orihime teach him that? </em> </p><p>“You really didn’t know, did you?” Ichigo tensed, sure his brow twitched as well. Didn’t they establish this already?</p><p>“Of course, I didn’t know! I think I would’ve let you know if I knew, you asshole!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tch, really? Would you, now?” Grimmjow stepped closer, obvious disbelief in his glaring voice, snarling down at Ichigo who stood his ground. The sentiment had just slipped out—he’d known Grimmjow formally for like two days, their first meeting notwithstanding. And now he was saying he would’ve told the man his deepest family secrets? After <em>two days?</em></p><p>
  <em>Well, I did basically give him my whole life story after he drug me into a cave when I was unconscious and delirious, so at least I’m consistent in my oversharing.</em>
</p><p>“Yes!” Ichigo said, stepping towards the man with an equally put off glare. He could never be a cryptid now, so might as well roll with it. Grimmjow also had a really small scar above his right eyebrow, following the curve of it a little, but really faint, like it was probably really old.</p><p>“Tch, don’t pity me Kurosaki,” came the growled response, upper lip cured back in a sneer, showing off a pair of unpleasantly sharp fangs. The fur indicated more feline qualities but the fangs were saying <em>cobra</em> or something equally terrifying. Ichigo wanted to hit his head up against a wall—his own or Grimmjow’s, he didn’t care which one because if he was being honest with himself, the result would probably be the same.</p><p>“And why would I be doing that? I’d rather punch you for the bloody back scratch you gave me.” Ichigo rubbed his side for emphasis because he couldn’t reach his back, he didn’t think he was a contortionist by any means and figuring out now seemed like a bad call. His head felt funny. Maybe he’d lost more blood than he thought.</p><p>“You don’t blurt out shit like that,” Grimmjow said, ignoring Ichigo completely. <em>I’m glad I wasn’t expecting any kind of apology you jackass,</em> he thought as another small drop of cold water hit his cheek.  </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Two days ain’t enough time.” Grimmjow straightened up fully, he was at least three or four inches taller than Ichigo, much to the prince’s dismay. From here he could see the dampness of his neck, how it seeped into the tuffs of hair at the back of his neck when he turned his head. The teal tattoos seemed slightly darker, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dampness or the fading light.</p><p>Whatever Urahara had said and done to him must’ve really freaked him out, not that Ichigo could blame him for getting freaked out around that weirdo. He was a nutcase on the best of days. <em>Well, him and the whole Aizen thing.</em></p><p>“Not enough time for what, idiot? Use your words,” Ichigo said, forcing himself not to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.</p><p>With the exception of the espada thing, which Ichigo begrudgingly understood why he kept that to himself, Grimmjow had yet to pull his punches. Everything so far had been either exactly what he’d been thinking, or the truth, which was something he rarely got from either Isshin or Urahara. That kind of violent sincereness made it hard for Ichigo <em>not</em> to trust him, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Neither the advisor or the kingly father garnered the same comradery he felt with Grimmjow, even if it was semi-violent, and currently wet and muddy.</p><p>Is this what Grimmjow had meant?</p><p>Grimmjow did not use his words, opting for another blunt growl in Ichigo’s face, his hair almost standing on end on his head, as another fat droplet struck his cheek. The drop of Ichigo’s blood on his face had slowly diluted with the man’s sweat and was running slowly down his face. The prince felt a sudden, immediate urge to wipe it away, but strangled it and gave it to Zangetsu to prance around on. He must’ve been staring at it too long because Grimmjow wiped it away with one poufy sleeve, smearing it across the white fabric.</p><p>His back was stinging more now, and it was most definitely bleeding. At least, he hoped it was, otherwise he didn’t know what else was seeping into the top of his pants. Blood was the least gross option at the moment.</p><p>Ichigo reached out slowly with his right hand, making sure Grimmjow saw what he was doing, giving him enough time to back away if he didn’t want the contact.</p><p>If he did, Ichigo would let him leave, let him go, run back into the forest. Not go in and check on the bastard, even if he wanted too. He’d leave him alone in his sad little run down shack and figure out the Aizen problem by himself. Once he could get the bastard gone, maybe then he could see if Grimmjow was there, sleeping in a crunchy, scratchy bed, digging in the ground for worms to catch his gross little fish with.</p><p> But if Grimmjow allowed the contact, let him press a single, unthreatening hand to him, then maybe, just maybe, Ichigo could still get through that thick, blue-headed skull. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go back to hiding in the forest from a group elusive enough to not be caught by anyone yet. Ichigo realized, silently, to himself, that he really, really didn’t want to see this snarly bastard dead. Didn’t want to find his body, broken, bleeding, and cut to pieces in his crappy little shack, the castle, the grounds…<em>anywhere.</em> There was no good place for this guy to die, but he needed to stay <em>close, damnit.</em></p><p> Grimmjow’s eyes darted toward his outstretched hand, eyes a little wider, watching as it reached toward his chest, right where the ring was. Breathing shallow, Ichigo noticed the slight jerk of his body, right before he slid his hand under the silver chain, following it down until the ring weighed in the middle of his blistered palm. The cool metal felt nice on the burns as he wrapped his hand around it gently. <em>So maybe there’s still a chance,</em> he thought, yet refused to be hopeful. He still wasn’t touching skin yet.  </p><p> </p><p>“You can take it back.”</p><p>The words were softer than anything he’d ever heard Grimmjow say, but his gaze was still downcast, looking directly at Ichigo’s hand as he spoke, frown pulling down the corners of his lips. It wasn’t a command, Ichigo thought, but more like…like Grimmjow was giving <em>him</em> the option to resend this whole ordeal. Maybe he didn’t want to leave after all, he just didn’t know if staying was an option. It didn’t sound like he <em>wanted</em> Ichigo to take it back, but if that’s what the prince wanted, he’d allow it.</p><p>
  <em>What a fickle guy.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>So maybe, just maybe, he did trust Ichigo a little, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Pressing the back of his hand directly on the man’s chest lightly, Ichigo let out a shaky sigh. After everything that just transpired, he still let Ichigo get close, still let him touch him.</p><p>
  <em>Well, I’ve always liked a challenge.</em>
</p><p>“Nah, you keep it,” Ichigo said, releasing it and pressing the ring lightly against his chest before he took his hand away. Grimmjow cast a glance towards him, but Ichigo didn’t linger, instead gazing towards the north, where a wall of white was approaching. Groaning as the sound of torrents of water hitting the cold ground with a heavy, wet force, Ichigo resigned himself to getting wet. They weren’t going to get to the castle before they got drenched.</p><p>“Look just come back with me, and if something goes wrong tomorrow, I’ll help you get out.”</p><p>Grimmjow looked at him and then looked at the wall of rain rushing towards them. Flicking a look back at the castle behind them, his eyes found Ichigo’s and gave a single, small nod.</p><p> </p><p>…..</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe she actually listened to you,” Ichigo said as he wrung out his cold, waterlogged shirt. It splattered onto the stone floor of the lower kitchens, creating a big puddle he was sure to get yelled at for later. Grimmjow shook his head around like a wet dog, water flinging back over in Ichigo’s dismayed direction. Ichigo wrung out his newly wetted shirt <em>again, </em>creating a second, smaller, puddle he was <em>definitely</em> going to get yelled at for. Where were all the rags, anyway? Scouring his jumbled, wet thoughts around like a burst bag of slippery glass marbles, Ichigo remembered it was a wash day.</p><p>Which left them, thankfully, alone in the kitchen.</p><p>Yuzu and Karin had extracted the kid from his leg and took her back to the infirmary hours ago so Orihime could get another look at her soon. She’d probably have her own room right next to his sisters, if they had any say in it. <em>I think the kid would be sleeping in my bed, if she had any say in it.</em> It had taken all three of them to remove her from his leg, but she finally agreed to sit on his shoulders for a little while. That calmed her down some. <em>She like yanking on my ears though,</em> he thought, rubbing one half-frozen ear in little, soothing circles.</p><p>“Tch, intruders have come in the door twice. She needs to keep it locked.” His voice was gruffy and a little hoarse, but Ichigo figured that was maybe normal, given the amount of stress the guy had been under the last couple hours. That or the thing where his voice had double in tones, his usual low voice, and a higher, growly one—Ichigo wasn’t sure, and didn’t ask. The lest questions the better, probably. Although, there was one constantly screaming into his consciousness like a siren. Ichigo turned his back to the man, stripping off his soaked shirt, careful for the gouges in his back.</p><p>“Because we were outside! We wouldn’t have gotten this wet!” Ichigo flinched as the cold wetness was extracted from his back like a soggy piece of dead skin, making the wounds sting in the open air.</p><p>“Tch, that’s not her fault.”</p><p>“No, I’m blaming this solely on you.” Ichigo threw his shirt into the two wet puddles on the floor, making a gross sound and one giant puddle. He wasn’t sure if he should deduct one of the yellings bound to happen, or combine them, like he’d done with the puddles. <em>It probably depends on who sees it first. Orihime will lecture me, Tatsuki will just straight up murder me in my sleep. </em></p><p>“Do what you want,” Grimmjow said, as Ichigo heard him move around behind him. Glancing behind him, he saw Grimmjow, tracking water absolutely everywhere, duck into a lower cabinet in the wall off to the side, near the door, the one Orihime stashed bandages and some medicinal items in. He heard a hard drop of something being moved around and falling, most likely the pestle and mortar she kept in there because she liked how it looked. Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder how he knew that small stash existed. <em>Had Orihime showed him? Or did he just snoop around until he found something? </em> </p><p>“Sit down,” Grimmjow said, standing back up, a roll of cloth bandages in hand, and kicking the door shut.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Wound won’t dress itself, idiot. Unless you wanna do it.”</p><p>Ichigo hmphed, but pulled out one of the chairs from the table closest to him and sat himself backwards in it.</p><p>“Can’t you heal? You were doing something to your wrists.”</p><p>“Tch. You want me to lick ya all over then?”</p><p>Ichigo’s hold on the chair tightened, face heating up, as a loud clap of thunder sounded form outside. That was <em>not</em> what he meant and Grimmjow <em>knew</em> it. A low chuckle behind him didn't give any clues away that the man might be joking, but hell if Ichigo knew. He wasn’t exactly easy to read.</p><p>Flinching at the sudden touch to his back, he forced himself to breathe. It had been years since he’d had a wound dressed properly, since Orihime was always around. <em>I really need to thank her for all she does,</em> he thought as he willed himself not to move as hands pressed lightly on his back, squeezing and parting the cuts to gauge depth. He tried to bite back a hiss as Grimmjow ran a hand directly over the cuts, but felt warmth pushing into his back, lessening the pain somewhat, as one hand held down the end of the bandage roll and began wrapping. He tried not to notice their proximity as Grimmjow reached around to his front to change hands and keep wrapping.</p><p>Thinking of other things left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He <em>had</em> to know, right? But that was fifteen years ago. Was Grimmjow…was he <em>around</em> when one of the group had murdered his mother? Did he…did he almost consider taking the job himself? The thoughts caused a knot in his stomach, nausea accompanied it, as his vision swam with the dream-memories. His hands smearing the blood of his mother around.  </p><p>“Spit it out already. I can hear you trying to think from ‘ere,” Grimmjow said as he continued wrapping, already halfway done, voice near his ear, body heat warming his back.  The pain was almost gone. He had to have used at least a little bit of magic, sans tongue, of course.</p><p>Was now the right time to ask? Grimmjow had calmed down significantly, it seemed, but…bringing up things from his past seemed like a tricky area. What if he flipped out and ran? Ichigo wasn’t sure he could catch him a second time; he’d almost fallen on his face the first time as he slid around in the mud, chasing after the big wildcat.</p><p>Taking a sharp breath in, <em>it’s now or never,</em> Ichigo figured, licking his chapped lips.</p><p>“Do you know the one who killed my mother?”</p><p>The question had been rumbling around in Ichigo’s mind since he realized Grimmjow was a former member, like he was afraid he’d forget to ask if he didn’t think about it constantly. But it was quiet, so quiet, almost inaudible, when it slipped past his lips, eyes downcast.</p><p>The wrapping stopped for a moment, before he continued and tied it off, saying nothing as he did so. Warmth left his back as he heard some rustling, a clinking of the chain, and then a wet slap of water filled cloth against the floor. Grimmjow stepped into his peripheral vision, and Ichigo turned his head slightly, not getting up from the chair. He’d taken off his ruined, muddy, shirt and was now undoing the bandages around his torso, back turned.</p><p>As the bandages unraveled a row at a time, Ichigo noticed some black marks on his back, and realized, with dawning horror, a number was taking shape the more Grimmjow removed, but it was scarred through, like someone had taken a knife to it and tried to cut it off.</p><p>As the last row was unraveled, Grimmjow let it slip through his fingers to the floor, hitting it silently, even though it was a little wet as well. A ragged number ‘6’ was tattooed onto his mid back, angled on his right side, close to his spine. Angry red scars ran through the number in multiple directions, and the closer Ichigo looked at them, the closer they looked more like…<em>claw marks. </em></p><p>He also realized this was the first time Grimmjow had ever turned his back to him. Be it purpose or accident, Ichigo had never been at Grimmjow’s back, always his front or side. Grimmjow had even let him go in front most of the time. Ichigo bit down on his lip, tasting a small bit of blood.</p><p>“You said five?” Grimmjow didn’t turn as Ichigo continued to stare at the number on his back through a jail-bar of scars. Was this how Aizen marked his people? A permanent marker of ownership? Like they would always be an espada, even if they left, and they’d have the number to prove it.</p><p>“Yeah,” his mouth was dry. Stomach churning. Aizen truly was a bastard. Grimmjow let lose a small snarl, one that sounded like it formed deep in his belly. Ichigo felt gooseflesh prickle along his arms.</p><p>“Five's Nnoitora. Real bastard.”</p><p>He had a name. The man who killed his mother. His name was Nnoitora. All these years, all the guilt. Everything. Standing silently on his feet, Ichigo pushed the chair back over to the table and grabbed his soggy shirt from the cold floor. His socked feet squelched in his boots. <em>Nnoitora. But…</em></p><p>Turning to Grimmjow, back still turned, Ichigo looked at the number and asked one final question.</p><p>“Did…were you…” the question died in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to ask. Not sure he wanted the answer.</p><p>“There? No. Joined twelve years ago. Left five.”</p><p>Ichigo nodded, and turned to the door. He had to leave; he needed to think.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…..</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo groaned into his pillow, frustrated and stupid. He should’ve said something. <em>Anything. </em>It would’ve been better than leaving Grimmjow standing in the kitchen, alone, back turned and shirt off. What if someone else walked in and saw his number? Uryu was one snarky comeback for skewering him with an arrow anyway. What if…what if Grimmjow left the castle anyway? What if he left and was back in his crummy shack and was a dead man?  </p><p> </p><p>What if…?</p><p> </p><p>What if…?</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo had a name though.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow had given him the name of his mother’s killer.</p><p>And as far as Ichigo and Grimmjow knew, he was still alive.</p><p>All the years of wondering, of guilt. The dreams and blood. A knife in the dark. Blood pooling on the unblemished chest of his mother. Dripping from her fingertips onto the floor.</p><p>He had a name.</p><p>Finally.</p><p>Knowing that fact didn’t make him feel much better, but it didn’t make him feel worse, he decided, as he laid in bed, crescent moon, darkened behind restless clouds, long since passed the glass of his window. Arms crossed behind his head, pillow behind him, Ichigo lay there, movements static, listening to his heart ram against his ribcage like it was trying to free itself. Rain pelted against the window, rattling it, but Ichigo was good with the noise. It was kind of soothing, calmed his nerves down, <em>not enough to go to sleep, </em>but it was…something.</p><p> </p><p><em>Grimmjow hates the rain, I think,</em> he thought remembering how his face scrunched up when it started to fall in earnest, glaring at the sky, like he could somehow intimidate it back into the clouds.</p><p>If he was still in the castle, he was hopefully in the room given to him. There was no way the guy was hiding in his room, he’d only left once, and that probably wasn’t enough time for him to sneak in. That and the guy would be in bed by now, <em>he couldn’t resist it even if he wanted too.</em> His straightforwardness was…<em>refreshing</em>, Ichigo thought was the right word. The honesty, even if it was incredibly uncomfortable, was appreciated.</p><p><em>And he told me once I asked,</em> Ichigo thought, turning over to his side, looking at the door, wondering if he should check to see if he was in there.<em> It took dad fifteen years to tell me about Mom.</em></p><p>Ichigo sighed, deep and heavy. He wasn’t panicking this time, at least. So that was something. His back didn’t hurt too much either. He’d considered pealing back the bandages to look at the damage, but thought against it.</p><p>He’d trust Grimmjow’s work.</p><p>Ichigo snorted, and shook his head, well, shook, rubbed it against the pillow, same thing in this case. Where had that come from?</p><p>“There can’t be that much more to surprise me then,” he said quietly into the air. Grimmjow. Aizen. His father, maybe. The week couldn’t possibly get worse.</p><p>Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ichigo knocked a couple of times on the wooden nightstand beside it.</p><p>Thinking back to Grimmjow, the familiar feeling of guilt settled on him. He hadn’t even said anything before he just left him standing there. And that had been hours ago. Ichigo had skipped dinner in favor of showering, choosing to hole himself in his room to think. Come to terms with everything. He’d done a good job, all things considered. But he’d convinced Grimmjow to come back to the castle, and idea he was definitely not crazy about, and then he just…left him in a dark kitchen all by himself like an idiot. Grimmjow was probably pissed. It was a wonder he hadn’t thrown open the door with threats of bodily violence.</p><p>Pushing himself off the softness of the bed he hadn’t even bothered turning down, Ichigo stood, grabbing his silken shirt from the floor and put his arms through it as he walked towards the door. It was late, but knowing that guy, he’d probably be sitting in front of the door with a knife from the kitchen or something. He was <em>definitely</em> paranoid, but Ichigo couldn’t say he blamed him, not after today. He’d go to his door, and if he wouldn’t let him in, he’d apologize through it if he had to.</p><p>Heart rate speeding up, Ichigo stopped just before he opened it. What would he do if Grimmjow wasn’t in there?</p><p><em>Search the castle, I guess,</em> he decided after a nonexistent deliberation. As guilt slipped her fingers inside his chest, Ichigo turned the knob and opened the door, stepping so he could see the hallway as it opened inwards.</p><p> </p><p>And stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Before him, in the barely lit hallway, shadows obscuring most of his face, leaving Ichigo searching for an understandable expression, stood the blue-haired man himself. And wearing a shirt, surprisingly enough. It was unbuttoned though, so it wasn’t quite a win, but it showed off his entire torso with a distinct lack of bandages, scar stretching from hip to his shoulder.</p><p>“G-Grimmjow. I was just coming to...” Ichigo cursed his stuttering as Grimmjow pushed past him, walking into his bedroom, shedding his shirt in the process and throwing it on the floor in a random direction. “…see you,” Ichigo finished as he watched the man throw back the covers on his bed and turn to Ichigo once, glare on his face, eyes flashing.</p><p>
  <em>Shit he’s pissed.</em>
</p><p>“Alright then,” Ichigo said under his breath as he closed the door behind him, locking it for once, least anyone barge in for the third morning in a row. He heard rustling and shifting, Grimmjow getting in the bed, probably. As Ichigo turned back around, that was exactly what happened, as he stared at the form laying in the center of his bed, arms crossed behind his head, still glaring at him from across the room. Ichigo let a sigh escape him, unwilling to admit, out loud, anyway, that he was at least a <em>little</em> relieved he hadn’t unlatched the kitchen door and bolted.</p><p>“I know what you’re doing,” Ichigo said, throwing all caution to the wind and walking over to him. He crossed his arms and stood at the side of the bed, watching as Grimmjow cast one eye at him, the other closed, and huffed, expelling a puff of air out his nose, nostrils flaring.</p><p>“And what’s that?”</p><p>“You’re using me for my bed.” If Ichigo was smiling slightly, he’d never tell, as he looked down on the grumpy lump of a man in his bed. Grimmjow made a <em>tsking</em> sound, but didn’t disagree.  </p><p>“And for the heat,” he added, locking both blue eyes onto Ichigo’s brown. Ichigo felt his body stiffen slightly, heat rushing to his face. <em>Well, at least it’s dark.</em>  </p><p>Ichigo didn’t say anything though, for fear his tongue would do something stupid, like say something weird and dumb, while blue eyes continued to stare at him, burning a hole through his skull. Grimmjow shifted one arm from behind his head and patted his chest twice, right above where the ring was. <em>He kept it on, huh…</em></p><p>“Tch. Whatever. Shut up and lay on me already.”  </p><p>“Whaa—” Ichigo’s mind completely blanked, thoughts no longer existing, let alone making sense. He wanted to—wanted Ichigo to <em>lay on him? What for?</em></p><p>“That’s how we’ve ended up both times. Might as well start that way.”</p><p>Ichigo could notice how his feral grin sounded on his face from miles away, the bastard. <em>Right back to teasing, huh?</em> Whatever. Ichigo wouldn’t say anything about it, and he definitely wouldn’t own up to not minding it…at all.</p><p>“You’re a jackass,” he said, as he crossed his arms, but didn’t move.</p><p>“An’ yer a royal idiot. Now move.”</p><p>Sighing, Ichigo stripped off his shirt. <em>Commanding prick.</em> There was no point in fighting it, he was right, they had ended up with Ichigo laying on top of him both times they’d slept in his bed. That, and it was way easier than saying something like…<em>I’m sorry my family is absolutely fucked up,</em> out loud. For what it was worth, it didn’t look like Grimmjow was pissed…about that anyway.</p><p>Settling a knee on the bed and feeling it sink in, Ichigo leveled Grimmjow a look he could probably see but definitely ignored.</p><p>“You better not have a boner right now.”</p><p>Grimmjow only offered a grin at him, only half feral, one pointy canine sticking out, and Ichigo couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or not, unfortunately.</p><p>“Guess you’ll have to find out.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow I got this one cranked out fast if I do say so myself. I had the dawning thought I should probably have waited to post chapter 13 along with this one so the whole Kaien/Aizen thing woudn’t be so…weird I guess?<br/>Maybe that’s just my anxiety talking, so if nothing else, it’s a fantastic ventriloquist for my puppet body, but I've got most of the dots connected in my mind. (Insert the, I've connected the dots--you haven't connected shit--I've connected them)<br/>Also, I did go back to Chapter 8 and revise the ‘confession’ scene between Ichi, Isshin and Kisuke so it would help line up with the plot (what even is that anymore?), and the ending of Chapter 13 is also edited slightly as well, but nothing major. I hope the previous chapter ending didn't turn anyone away from it, but regardless, I hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Filipendulous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rumors swirl in the dark air a meeting is taking place between two targeted kingdoms. Blood spilled before in each, lifetimes ago. What was a little more now? The ground could use a new fertilizer. Trees in the Menos Forest hadn't leafed out in decades. It could be an interesting turn of events. </p><p>Meanwhile, in a room full of fabric and tension, a certain blue-haired man is getting a few last minute measurements. Where had the ginger prince run off to? And didn't the damned tailor already get enough out of torturing him with his measuring tape once before?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew, this one took a while. Cranking out two long chapters within three days of each other kinda burned me out a little bit, so that’s partly why this took so long and why it’s not necessarily super important to the plot. The other reason is because I worked more on Finding Folklore series. Anyway, here’s chapter 15! New POV! Filipendulous: adj. hanging by a thread ALSO: I found this really cool website that had names of like medieval dyes and colors that have largely gone away or something. It’s super cool! https://rosaliegilbert.com/dyesandcolours.html is the website!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“It appears there is movement within the Seireitei,” a silver haired man said, leaning his back against the wall, grin spread across his face like an empty chasm. Wall of stone, dark and cold, light emanating from crystals growing in petrified tree roots, piercing the cave walls of their <em>palace</em>.</p><p>Their domain had grown over the past years, especially since <em>his</em> return. Face splitting smile shifting to something more relaxed, he gazed, eyes narrowed towards the throne, upon which their <em>Lord</em> sat. White, sleeveless gambeson, belted around the waist, dark gray long sleeves flowing down from the shoulders, cinched around his wrist. He was propping himself up by a single hand upon his throne. Dark leather bracers fastened around each forearm, each with some kind of enchantment, he was sure, carved into thick animal hide.</p><p>Brown hair swept back across his head, a single strand hanging down, between closed eyes. <em>Oh my, is he sleeping?</em> He knew better, of course; their leader was simply listening to what chatter happened around him. Making sure all was well within his violent utopia.</p><p>“And here I thought Old Man Yama molded to his seat like fine cheese,” he added, flicking his vision over to another companion, who looked…<em>unimpressed is a fine word</em>, he thought, as he stared down the other man, black belted tunic with a similar colored sword belt fastened around his waist. <em>At least his cowl is pulled down,</em> he noticed, watching as the man tied back his dark, braided hair behind him with an orange band.</p><p>“Now does not seem appropriate to jest regarding such matters, Gin,” Tōsen said, hands dropping back to his sides as he walked towards the adjacent wall, running his hand over one of the luminous crystals. They gave off little warmth, their light a dull white. While there were plenty of them poking out of the walls precariously, enough crevices and cracks in and around the cave walls, giving way to little alcoves, littering the cave, allowing plenty of shadows to make their home comfortable.</p><p>Tōsen turned then, to the man upon the throne, his fingers tapping once, twice, three times against a thick, petrified root, twisting around the arm of his lordly seat. Gin quite admired the aesthetic of their hidden fortress, roots of the ancient, petrified Menos Forest twisting down into the hollowness below, to the intricate cave system they called home.</p><p>There were a few numbers who actively <em>disliked</em> it, but Eight modified his own crystals, making them brighter; the new Three made sure she had plenty of them for her and her little trio of loudmouthed lessers. Others such as One and Four, gave little indication of their opinion. <em>Well, One might have something to say if he were awake.</em></p><p>“Regardless, it does look that way. A meeting perhaps? The Seireitei appears quite restless.” Tōsen was right. The whispers within the trees echoed of a near meeting, but two days away. Two kingdoms converging for a time, making one easy target.</p><p>Gin turned gaze towards the center of the room, where a stone table rested, chiseled from the floor, like a giant, plateaued stalagmite, large, thick papered map splayed flat across it, various markers and colors for the land indicating something important. In each corner was an old dagger, stabbed through ages ago, holding the ripped, worn paper mostly in place, save for the few curls along the sides.</p><p>“Excellent.” The man stood from his throne, stepping down the three steps leading to it, careful not to crush any of the small floor crystals underfoot. They’d been chipped and worn away by years spent in the cavern anyway, always underfoot. He was content he hadn’t stepped on a sharp one in a long while, that was always annoying. The little things easily pierced through some of the weaker soled shoes back in the day, though now it wasn’t much of an issue.   </p><p>There were other options, locations. A small, desolate, village under their control, tunnels extending miles and miles, only to open up into a new kingdom altogether, but this place, where he could hide and slither around as he pleased, was his favorite. Plenty of crevices and hollows to sneak. Overhearing conversations of others was an interesting pastime, if he was bored enough. Tracking the outline of his wakizashi inside his billowing, white, sleeve, Gin watched their leader walk towards the table.</p><p>“Such a fuss, and all for one little prince. What say you, <em>Lord Aizen</em>?” The hilt, though wrapped, still felt cold to the touch, like a dull fang, venom stripped.</p><p>For now, of course.</p><p>“It is not just about the prince,” came his silken reply, taking out a knife, jewel encrusted pommel. Gin recognized the crest carved into the base of the blade, twin dragons. Pushing it through the map and into stone like it was butter, Aizen’s hollow smile never left his face. <em>I suppose it’s a good thing we never eat off it.</em></p><p>Tōsen approached from the other side, resting his hands along the stone table, but not the map. Running a finger along the crystal once more, Gin pushed away from the wall and joined them around the table, leaning over it, casting a dark shadow over the knife, its blade piercing through the Kingdom of Karakura, cutting through a single drop of aged blood.</p><p>“Oh dear, isn’t that where Five killed the Queen?” Gin looked towards Aizen, already knowing the answer. Fifteen years ago, Nnoitora wouldn’t shut up regarding the matter—it was incredibly annoying. He drug it on, and on. How easy it had been, the castle defenses were lax at best, how he should’ve slit more than one throat. Carved her into pieces, and left them scattered around the grounds.</p><p>“What was her name again?” <em>Masaki</em>, of course, but he wanted the man to say it out loud. Gin knew he wouldn’t, but it was worth a shot. From what he gathered, Aizen was not a fan of the woman. <em>Then again, he doesn’t particularly care for anyone. </em> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant your <em>brother’s</em> wife.” Perhaps a light prodding could make him speak, but the man only drew back the corners of his lips, into what he supposed was a smile, his white teeth bared in an empty, joyless motion. <em>How cruel.</em></p><p>Gin watched chestnut eyes look up from the map and toward the back wall, where the room branched off into several shadowed hallways, inter spaced with different rooms, some belonging to their…<em>members</em>, winding around and through like a stone maze, each lined with glowing crystals, and dark, petrified roots, long grown through stone by the towering trees on the surface.</p><p>“Yes, it was.”</p><p>There was no need for fire to light the path, since the crystals were plenty and bright enough. <em>I could do without some of the dampness, however.</em> Darkness was no matter—he was used to slipping through the shadows<em>.</em></p><p>“Was it true the boy found her?” Tōsen turned gaze now towards their leader, pausing Gin’s thoughts. <em>Have we not covered this subject</em> <em>already? </em></p><p>“Yes. According to our information, he found her soon after, corpse was still warm.” A single finger traced the pommel and hilt of the dagger, before he turned, staring towards his white throne, gnarled roots twisted around it, a crown of glowing crystal creating a halo around his head when he sat.</p><p>“Though dated, they have some inside information on us as well.”</p><p>Not a shock there. That crazed scientist turned advisor had eyes sharper than most, ears in about a hundred different locations. Together with that assassin he loved so much, they could be quite a handful.</p><p>“Ah. Has Kisuke been up to his scheming again?” Gin looked south of Karakura, to where the Seireitei lay, a single drop of dried blood splattered in the center of the Sovereignty. <em>Sasabike, I believe.</em></p><p>“I was under the impression that deviant never stopped,” Tōsen quipped, locking his blind gaze directly on Gin. The way he did that was always a little <em>creepy. </em></p><p>“While that may be true, he is not to who I am referring.” Aizen smiled as he spoke, a hollow, knowing look, one that passed from <em>creepy</em> to <em>deadly</em>.</p><p>“Oh?”  </p><p>Gin turned his own smile on saint Tōsen the Justified, grin splitting across his face once more—this was nothing new. New hadn’t happened in so long, and things had been so boring. <em>Finally,</em> something interesting. He was tired of the bickering numbers.</p><p>“He’s found our favorite ex-Six, or so I’ve heard.”</p><p>Gin had caught his presence in that Soul Forest once in the five years he’d been ‘dead’, but never saw the beast. Nothing noteworthy to tell them about, not like they didn’t already know. He'd been feral even before the <em>incident</em> happened. Tōsen shouldn’t be so surprised, the only bodies they found were of his mangled little pack, all cut up and eviscerated, never the blue haired devil of destruction. Truly, Aizen was ruthless.</p><p>“Grimmjow? So he’s still alive, hm?” Tōsen furrowed his brows. Then again, Tōsen avoided the forest altogether, calling it a <em>sacred</em> place. Gin felt nothing sacred about it, no matter what rumors spread about souls returning. The darkness within it was far more interesting. <em>And he’s not a fan of Eight’s wolf modifications either, </em>he thought, remembering how Szayel spread them around like a virus trying to further research Aizen had started. <em>I wonder how he justifies that.</em></p><p>“Didn’t see that coming, hmm? Cats do have nine lives, after all.”</p><p>For what it was worth, Tōsen didn’t appear surprised. It <em>was </em>Grimmjow after all. <em>With his previous life, it’s not shocking he wormed his way out of it. </em>But Kisuke having Six at the castle where a regressed Aizen had been for years? That may be enough to send the man over the edge. He wasn’t quiet about his dislike of their <em>beloved</em> leader. <em>I wonder if he knows,</em> Gin mused, silently, cracking a sliver of his left eye open to glimpse at Aizen, who was staring at his lordly throne.</p><p>“That’s enough, Gin,” Aizen said, voice cruel in its gentleness. A signal Gin towed the line yet again, <em>back off</em>, it did no good to fight with each other like their dear numbers were so fond of doing. Conflict kept things from being boring. The crystals in his throne reacted to his voice, flickering slightly at the minute change of the magic thrumming through his veins, thinly veiled malice behind it.</p><p>“This is a good turn of events, no need to worry. Everything is going according to plan.”</p><p>It was so <em>like</em> Aizen to believe this a good thing. Everything always went according to plan. Meddling with his own soul, even when it sent him back to the cusp of childhood was little more than a brief inconvenience for him. Having to be raised all over again. Then again, maybe he <em>wanted</em> to go to the castle. Kisuke was there after all, had been for years. He’d known, he said, even then the man was experimenting with dangerous things, and had wanted to find out what, and he’d come back with half a hogyoku. Perhaps it had been the only way. As far as he knew, Aizen was the only one wanting go…<em>higher,</em> as he called it.</p><p>Gin wouldn’t have believed a word of it, had he not been witness to part of it. Rebuilding his <em>espada</em> after his ‘death’, knowing the location of this establishment. One he’d tried to find for years, before being lead there by the very man he’d been trying to find. Hands, now back inside his sleeves, clasped the small sword tightly for a moment, remembering old bruises and blood. <em>Yet here we are.</em></p><p>“I’m not sure letting that beast live is a good thing,” Tōsen said, pausing Gin’s line of thoughts. His white gloved fingers traced the outline of his down cowl. A banging sound from a different room echoed to meet them, and Gin heard the telltale screeching of One’s annoying little kid.</p><p>Children never seemed to care for him, which was just as well. He didn’t care much for them either. She was the youngest in their ranks, and had so far been kept out of most trouble, not for the help of her sleeping, lazy father. The newly appointed Three took well to the kid, even when she was a lower rank, so he didn’t care. She didn’t bother him, and that was all that mattered.  </p><p>“Do not worry, Kaname, he will lead them to us. You will be able to kill him once and for all then.” Aizen seemed unaffected by the small noise. Gin flicked his eye down to the center of Aizen’s turned back, before narrowing his gaze once more, snakeskin grin ever present on his pale face.</p><p>“Ah, so will the hogyoku be complete at last?”</p><p>“Patience, dear Gin. I’ve waited this long; I can wait a little while longer.”</p><p>“Your little…<em>Kaien</em> escapade—”</p><p>“While inconvenient, ultimately brought us closer to the goal. It was the fastest way.” Aizen turned, a single hand placed over the center of his chest, where he planned to merge with it. <em>Perhaps it’s already jammed in his hollow chest, eh?</em></p><p>“And once the hogyoku is complete….”</p><p>His sentence was interrupted by a knocking sound, coming from a far-left chamber. <em>Not that he would have finished his thought anyway. He has a talent for talking without revealing much. </em></p><p>“Lord Aizen,” a voice from the darkened area. Gin recognized Eight’s voice. Stepping forward, revealed a tall, skinny figure, scar cut across the left half of his face, extending his smile in a maddening way. The color of his top lip always reminded Gin of freshly made poison. He’d changed out his black gambeson for a stark white, jacket, fitting tightly across his shoulders and chest, purple accents in the center and down his arms in straight lines. The cut he’d received from the former Six was still healing on his right cheek.</p><p><em>For such a wild animal, he’s being extremely cautious. </em>The old Six would’ve followed the trail back, or killed Eight then and there. Perhaps the curse was making him weaker? Little less sane than he already was? Then again, the man had said he’d been on the prince’s tail. Perhaps their former ally had gotten his own grubby hands on the royal son? <em>Six being taken in by that family? That’s quite an amusing thought.  </em> </p><p>“Ah, Szayelapporo. Have you learned anything new from those corpses you brought back?”</p><p>Eight’s smile spread even further than Gin’s own, but didn’t stay as long. Opening his mouth brought forth the same nonsense he was already aware of, but said nothing as the man talked, watching as he threw open his arms in a dramatic, flashy, fashion. He had some black liquid oozing off his otherwise pristine hand.</p><p>“Yes, Lord Aizen,” his smile crinkled the scar stemming from his mouth. “It appears his curse has gained in power as expected. He’s slowly losing control.”</p><p>Flicking another, last glance at Tōsen, Gin saw the displeasure in his face. Obviously Aizen hadn’t bothered to tell him he was still alive until now, when he had known since Eight had come back. <em>At least, I assume he didn’t tell him, judging by his expression.</em> Gin had been away at the time, dealing with a…<em>former</em> issue.  </p><p>Aizen smiles. “Excellent. Gin. Kaname. Gather everyone. We have much to discuss.”</p><p>Tōsen nodded with a slight bow, a small “Of course, Lord Aizen,” slipping past his lips before turning and going down one of the darker corridors, pulling the cowl up and over his head, down past his closed eyes. Gin would leave that to him, since it didn’t matter to him if the hallway was dark or not.</p><p>Gin said nothing, but bowed slightly as well, before going down the straight hallway, where it branched out into the chambers of numbers one through four, each one descending a little further into the depths of the cavern. The throne room was the closest, occupied room to the surface. Turning to knock once on One’s door, a figure flashed through his mind.</p><p>A woman. Strawberry-blonde hair, pretty pink lips, large eyes. She was crying, large tears, bubbling from the corner of her eyes and streaming down her face. Gin frowned.</p><p>
  <em>I wonder how she’s doing…</em>
</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Grimmjow, if you don’t stay still, I’m strangling you with my tape measure,” the prissy tailor scolded, snapping his flimsy little measuring length at him once. Rain pelted the windows of his little fabric/sewing/seamstress room like it wasn't going to stop any time soon. The meeting had been postponed a day or so, in lieu of the weather. <em>How the fuck do these people communicate, anyway?<br/>
</em></p><p>“You already took measurements. What do you want more for?” Grimmjow tried to back away, a scowl set on his face, but a pair of small hands stopped him, pushing him forward so he couldn’t retreat. ‘Hime was behind him, tag teaming him with Uryu in order to get him his precious measurements, the traitor. He’d never tell her he liked her cooking again. Pantera meowed at the tailors feet, looking up with her big green eyes. He ignored her and instead frowned at Grimmjow, who returned it with a glare.</p><p>“If you weren’t so shit at it the first time, you wouldn’t need more,” he growled at the mostly white clad tailor, save for the shoes, which were black. Shit, didn’t he just take them…<em>two days ago.</em> <em>How fast is this fucker at sewing?</em> Pantera rubbed her furry little black body on his pant legs, because she was also a backstabber. <em>At least shed on him some.</em></p><p>“You ignorant little…” the man growled back, right eye twitching behind his glasses. “If you weren’t swatting at everything like a half-feral cat, I wouldn’t have to do this! Besides,” he continued, pushing his glasses up on his face with a poignant middle finger, pushing the cat away with his foot. Grimmjow saw him do it to Ichigo quite a few times before; <em>guess it’s my turn since Kurosaki ain’t ‘ere.</em></p><p>Isshin, in a far better mood than the previous evening, all but dragged the sleepy prince out of bed that morning, after lecturing Grimmjow about <em>staying in your own room damnit, you can’t just come in here and corrupt my son. </em>Citing needing to talk to Kurosaki about their oncoming visitors, the man pulled the half asleep, shirtless prince off Grimmjow, leaving him pissed off, half naked, and alone in the bed. Kurosaki had drooled on his chest in his sleep a little, leaving a little sticky spot right over his heart, the idiot.</p><p>“I need to make sure it fits. Put this on,” the tailor continued, breaking Grimmjow from his sickeningly fond turning thoughts of the orange haired prince, shoving a light-colored tunic in his hands, crossing his arms after and staring, one eye twitching. Folding it over in his hands, it looked like it was barely a light blue, though it could be a trick of the lacking light in the room. Torches flickered along the wall, which seemed like a bad idea, given the room was filled with what Grimmjow assumed was flammable fabrics. </p><p>A few other wads of material lay on the table to his left, as he stood in the stupid little circle drawn on the floor, desk to his right, still stacked high with a multitude of papers organized in a chaotic mess. The guy seemed like he had a stick shoved so far up his ass he could taste it, so he didn’t quite understand how he could stand the obvious disarray of his working space.  Not that Grimmjow minded the mess—he couldn’t give two shits about it, just figured this guy would. He seemed like the type.</p><p>Turning it over in his hands, Grimmjow thought it felt like wool. The neckline squared off, a small v plunging probably to the center of his chest, the collar and trim contrasted by a darker blue. Figures. The guy took one look at his hair and decided a color palate. Thankfully he <em>did</em> like blue, but what if red was his favorite color? What then? Not that he even <em>asked</em> what colors he liked. <em>Assuming asshole.</em></p><p> Whatever.</p><p>Regardless of color, Grimmjow hesitated, glaring between the two onlookers. Orihime was staring not so subtly at the tailor, wide-eyed and big, enamored smile on her soft face. Uryu, in turn, was staring at him, tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for Grimmjow to obey his command like a good little boy. What an idiot. Orihime glanced back at the shirt in Grimmjow’s hands; he could almost see the candle flame flicker above her head. </p><p>“Oh, if you’re nervous about me being here, don’t worry! I’ve seen everyone here without their shirts a lot!” Orihime said, clapping her hands together once. “If it makes you feel better, I can turn around!”</p><p>It didn’t make him feel better, mainly because that wasn’t the issue at hand, and Uryu probably wouldn’t look away, fear of him…he didn’t know. Shredding or Souls forbid <em>eating</em> the damn piece of cloth like some idiot who didn’t know how a shirt worked. The way he looked at Grimmjow, that was <em>exactly</em> what he was thinking. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and began putting on the shirt, over the one he was currently wearing, the silver chain around his neck snagging on something. Some too tight thing he’d <em>borrowed</em> from Kurosaki’s dumb wardrobe. He’d ripped the sleeves off because the kid’s arms were too skinny, which he’d probably, <em>hopefully,</em> get yelled at for later by said prince.</p><p>“Take off Ichigo’s shirt first, idiot. <em>Then</em> put the other one on.”</p><p>Yep, the tailor thought he didn’t know how to put clothes on. That, and he would <em>love</em> to take Ichigo’s shirt off and strip him bare. His reaction would be hilarious, all red faced and wide-eyed. Eyes burning like the embers of a dying, spitting fire.</p><p>He’d seriously considered it last night, after he’d entered Kurosaki’s room still pissed at the moron just <em>leaving</em> him in the kitchens. Shredding his shirt between his claws and plunging his teeth into the soft flesh of his neck was a <em>delicious </em>thought. But one look at the tired eyed prince poured water on his proverbial flame.</p><p><em>Can’t say I blame 'em though, yesterday was a lot for both of us,</em> he thought, pushing down a bubble of anxiety. With panic barely subsiding until the ginger was resting on top of him, head heavy against his chest, body laid over him like a blanket, he decided fully against it, even after the prince got a little cheeky with him. The weight of the other man was enough to calm the rest of his nerves, feeling their heartbeats sync up put him at ease. He counted how many beats per minute, until he too was lulled into a dreamless slumber, waking only when King Asshat himself was yelling and waving his arms around like a vulture with a grudge.</p><p>But right now, Kurosaki was somewhere else in the castle, probably getting heckled by his idiot old man and the creepy advisor. That guy could stay far, far away. Even if it were true that he didn’t know Aizen and Kaien were the same person. The thought of that…<em>demon</em> lurking around, living, and growing up in the castle, was enough to make his skin crawl right off his skin. He’d have to check the darkened areas and corners again, when…<em>if</em> he had a while. </p><p>Who knew how many people knew by now about his former affiliation. He hadn’t bothered covering up his number yesterday after Kurosaki left the kitchen in a nonverbal daze.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It was the King who had found him first, and draped a blanket across his shoulders, muttering about how his son probably wouldn’t come downstairs for the rest of the night. He hadn’t said anything else, just…sat on the opposite side of the table for a while, looking as out of it as his son had. The advisor must’ve said something to him about the whole Kaien/Aizen thing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before he could stop it, a pang of guilt rang through his bones. His own pack, brothers in a fucked-up kind of way, swam through his still murky mind much the same way ghosts waded through a shipwreck. ‘It’s probably like he lost his kin all over again,’ he thought, looking at the somber king, who was resting a palm on his face, staring at some lost corner, reliving a memory that was a lie. He could relate to that.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Being in the same room as the guy who’d called Aizen his brother was uncomfortable at best, but his shock seemed genuine, that or he was one hell of a liar. ‘Not sure that kind of look could be faked, though. Unless that snake-bastard Ichimaru was doin’ it.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grimmjow growled inwardly, remembering that white haired creep. He’d never cared for him, slithering around and being four kinds of weird, but the other man was worse. T</em>
  <em>ōsen, the damned blind bastard, had been out for him since day one. Not that it mattered. His pack was the only thing important to him, and now…well. Old wounds. Raging water under a broken bridge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whatever.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The King had stared at the wall what felt like hours, but was probably only a handful of long, silent minutes. The blanket still lay over Grimmjow’s shoulders like a broken promise, anxiety swirling around in his chest, but he refused to let it get to him again. If he lost control now, he’d be a dead man for sure. And a dead man couldn’t hold a grudge near as well. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The old fart nudged him towards the room given to him, before the prince’s friends flowed into the kitchen like water through a broken dam. He pointed out an unused passageway in the storage room, a straight, narrow staircase, going up to the floor his room was on, and he’d listened, stepping silently through darkened corridors and hidden hallway, until he was able to shut the door behind him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once he got to the room, he threw the blanket off his shoulders and shivered. Cold from the stone sunk into his skin and stayed. There wasn’t another shirt in the room, not that he would’ve put on any piss-poor excuse of a shirt that guy had given him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>One slutty shirt was enough. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For now. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Uryu raised his brow impatiently, tapping his foot, snapping the man out of his thoughts. The shirt bunched up between strong, long fingers, wrinkling the fabric. He balled it up for good measure, when he saw how tense it made the tailor, for shits and giggles, of course. If Kurosaki wasn’t around to tease, he’d settle for this idiot, even if he was strung up like a length of bone.</p><p>“Grimmjow, I haven’t got all day to waste on you. Just take off your shirt and put that one on.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s okay! If you’re worried about that number on your back, we already know,” ‘Hime said, cocking her head to the left as she spoke, before clapping a hand over her mouth, and looking at him with wide, sorry eyes.</p><p>Grimmjow barely stopped his mouth from falling open in surprise, spinning on his feet towards her, as Uryu’s palm hit his face. <em>She knew?</em></p><p>“Orihime we talked about this!”</p><p>Grimmjow’s eye went wild, taking a large step towards the woman, looking down on her, as she dropped her hand and looked up curiously, but without fear.</p><p>“How the fuck did you—”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry Ichigo—” she started, waving her hand around like she was swatting flies instead of <em>not</em> quelling his now topside anxiety.</p><p>“Is and idiot without a brain,” the tailor interrupted, inserting himself between Grimmjow and ‘Hime, eyes narrowed, glare fierce. “We figured it out before he had a clue.”</p><p>“You <em>what—”</em></p><p>“I saw the top of your number when I healed your chest. The shirt didn’t cover it up completely at first,” Orihime said, shifting sheepishly, eyes darting everywhere but at him, like <em>now</em> she was nervous. Grimmjow wanted to roll his eyes at her, but settled for a scowl between the pair.  </p><p>
  <em>So that’s why she was trying to be so threatening in the kitchen. </em>
</p><p>Grimmjow looked to Uryu expectantly, waiting on his long-ass explanation, probably.</p><p>He crossed his arms and turned away, facing ‘Hime, but throwing a dirty look to Grimmjow, over his thin shoulder.</p><p>“No one wears bandages around themselves without purpose. Also, the King has a lot to talk about, but not much to say.”</p><p>Ah, so it was <em>his</em> doing, then. <em>Bastard.</em> Thinking about it that way, that meant…Orihime was the first to know. Briefly, Grimmjow thought about asking just <em>when</em> the loudmouthed King had said something to them, but decided it didn’t matter.</p><p>The cat was out of the bag now.  </p><p>Also, the cat looked like she wanted to jump on the shitty tailors desk. Pantera let out a whiny sound before wiggling her tail, jumping up to the workspace, knocking off two stacks of paper, scattering them to the floor, and all but erasing the tension in the room. The tailor clenched and unclenched his fists, even curling his fingers around like claws a little bit as he approached the furry creature, who knocked off another couple papers for the fun of it.</p><p>“Why you little,” he growled out, taking another step forward. Grimmjow cut in front, blocking his path, clothed arms crossed across his chest.</p><p>“Don’t even think about it.”</p><p>Pantera meowed and butt her head against his back, purring obnoxiously. Uryu’s lip dipped into a low frown, but tightened into a thin line a moment later, before he took a few steadying breaths, eyes closed. Flicking a eye towards the cat, Grimmjow scratched behind one ear a couple times, letting her rub herself on his arm and side a couple times before the recovering seamstress in distress spoke up again.</p><p>“If she sheds on that, I’ll make you eat it.”</p><p>Grimmjow scoffed at the statement. ‘Hime giggled from her place beside and slightly back from Uryu.</p><p>“Like to see you try.”</p><p>The glare between the two men was icy; Grimmjow could feel the fabric twisting between his fingers. He considered draping it over the cat, who took the opportunity to jump down and wander over to ‘Hime while he ignored her in favor of thinking of ways to piss off the tailor. Maybe he could train her to piss on his precious notes. <em>But if I did that….</em>a sketch flashed through his mind, one he was <em>very</em> interested in seeing the ginger moron in.</p><p>“Quit thinking, I can hear your thoughts dying from here. Just put that on, I only have today to alter it,” Uryu said, pointing to the shirt now wadded up in his hands with a frown on his pale face. Grimmjow felt his eye twitch. He was definitely teaching Pantera to piss on some notes for that little comment, the bastard.</p><p>Stripping himself of Kurosaki’s ill-fitting shirt, pulling it over his head in one rough movement, he heard ‘Hime squeak like a little mouse behind him, band of intent hitting the center of his chest. Casting a short glace behind him, he saw Uryu covering up her eyes with his hand, and mutter something unintelligible under his breath.</p><p>Growling at the sight, he turned back around and fixed the shirt. It fit fine. As figured, it was a very pale blue instead of the white he thought at first. Cinched writs, looser sleeves, creating a slightly ballooning effect on his already larger biceps, Grimmjow adjusted his leather bracers over it. Overall, the design was…<em>plainer</em> than he’d expected, which wasn’t a bad thing, considering his first article of clothing at the castle was a see-through monstrosity from King Asshat’s personal wardrobe of courtship. What a pervert.</p><p> “Just as I thought, milk-and-water is a good color for you,” the tailor said, rubbing his chin with a finger in thought, eyes relaxed for the first time in his life, probably.</p><p>“Yeah! It makes his eyes look even more blue. Good job Uryu!” Orihime gave the tailor a soft pat on the shoulder, making his pale face turn a slight pink. <em>Damn, he’s got it bad.</em></p><p>Grimmjow snorted as he watched the tailor sputter, before walking around ‘Hime, towards a wayside table, where a bunch of leather was heaped in a sort of pile. Grabbing something from it, he turned and walked straight towards the now outed ex-espada with purpose, a recognizable torture device between his hands.</p><p>Grimmjow felt his eye twitch as Uryu stopped and held out his hands, a silent order to take what he was offering like an idiot without eyes. He’d rather go shirtless and show off his number through the whole damned town.  </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I’m not wearing a corset.”</p><p>“You absolutely are. The prince insisted.”</p><p>Grimmjow opened his mouth to protest, Kurosaki be damned. There was no way in the fires of hell he was wearing that uncomfortable, piece of solid shit—</p><p>“If you don’t I’m scrapping the prince’s design as well.”</p><p>Grimmjow shut his mouth and sucked on a fang, thinking. Okay, so there was <em>one</em> way in the fires of hell he would wear it. He squinted at the tailor, who still held onto the shitty thing he made, which was, if his sight was anything to go by, actually very well made. It was a pride thing. And they were uncomfortable as <em>fuck.</em></p><p>“You gonna make it outta that—”</p><p>“Pers velvet? Absolutely.”</p><p>Grimmjow blinked and raised a brow.  </p><p>“Fuckin’ what velvet?”</p><p>“It was the deep blue color you picked out.”</p><p>“Then just say deep blue.”</p><p>“No,” the tailor said holding it up the leather in his hands at Grimmjow’s chest, sizing it without him putting it on. It was a dark brown, a near match in color to his bracers, and had a belted strap going up and around the shoulder, small leather cords lacing through little eyelets on the backside. There was some kind of filigree design cut into the sides of the thing, from where it would hit just below the arm pit, to his hip. A different, simpler design was cut across the front with a small crest of the kingdom lingering in the corner, like a brand. Like as he wore it, he was property of the kingdom itself.</p><p>A snarl readied itself on his lips as the tailor began to loosen the laces. <em>If he’s gonna fuckin’ dress me, I’m killin’em. </em></p><p>To what little credit Grimmjow begrudgingly offered the tailor, he loosened the laces <em>just</em> enough for him to be able to slip it over his head. Pulling the silver chains around his neck to an even  Adjusting the strap on his left shoulder until it was tight enough to not fall off, but still gave full range of motion, Grimmjow tried pulling on the laces behind him to tighten them himself.</p><p>Uryu snorted watching him, rolling his eyes as he tried, and failed to tie it behind him.</p><p>“You’re not going to get that yourself,” he said, adding insult to the already embarrassing situation.</p><p>
  <em>I’m going to murder this little fuc—</em>
</p><p>“What the hell are you wearing?” a familiar voice from the door way did.</p><p>Kurosaki.</p><p>Glaring with what he hoped was a tumultuous ferocity, Grimmjow turned towards the door way, and there he was in all his idiot, ginger-headed glory. Holding the traitor-cat in his arms no less, one of her paws squished against his shocked face as she lay cradled in his arms on her back.</p><p>Wide, amber eyes started at his shoeless feet, trailing slowly up his shins, stopping momentarily on his thighs. Grimmjow’s current pants fit much like a second skin in the tight-ass pants the old fart gave him. There was still some dirt on the sides and on his ass, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? Walking around shirtless was one thing, but pantless, dick out and parading around? Not when there were kids around. He had some standards. </p><p>He let the smirk stretch across his face into a feral, toothy grin, as Kurosaki’s eyes continued on their journey upwards, over his corseted chest, stopping right in the middle, at his pectorals, face blossoming into a heated mess rivaling his hair. <em>Must be eyein' the stupid necklace. </em>  </p><p>Grimmjow saw his swallow hard, his adam’s apple plunging in his skin, down and up. Licking his lips, he waited, until the prince let his eyes roam up to his face.</p><p>He wasn’t disappointed, when honeyed amber met his own gaze, deep and sharp, face a deepening pink changing to red, even on the tips of his ears. Grimmjow made it a point to give the same, scandalous eye-fucking the prince had, letting eyes can down to the exposed flesh of his neck, in his rust colored deep ‘v’ed tunic, letting him view the skin of his chest. There was definitely some muscle definition. <em>Easier to see without his shirt, though. </em></p><p>Unfortunately, the tunic was longer, almost sloppy in its size, as it reached his mid-thigh, but he could always admire the length of his wiry legs. Grimmjow ran his tongue over an exposed canine, biting down on the tip slightly, as he raked his eyes back up Kurosaki’s frame. In the couple minutes it took, the prince’s face had turned from pink to a deep scarlet. <em>If I peeled his flesh off, I bet his bones would be blushin’ too. </em></p><p> “Do we need to give you two a moment,” Uryu asked, breaking the spell between him and the prince. Both men turned their gaze towards the tailor, who was standing next to a smiling ‘Hime, an exhausted look on his face, like the past five minutes had taken about fifty years off his boring, sexless life.</p><p>
  <em>Tch. Fuckin’ prude.</em>
</p><p>“Nah,” Grimmjow said, turning away from the tailor and turning his back to the prince. "I don't mind an audience."</p><p>Jutting an arm at his back, he motioned to where he assumed the laces were. With his other hand he pulled loosely at the chain, bringing the ring within the princes’ view.  </p><p>“Why don’t you be a <em>good </em>prince and lace this up for me, hmm?” Grimmjow wiggled his hips just a little for effect, and threw a glance over his shoulder. It was a dirty move, but it did the job just fine.   <em><br/>
</em></p><p>Kurosaki dropped the cat, face aflame. </p><p>Pantera wasn’t thrilled, but she landed on her feet like a trooper and attacked the prince’s leg a little, while he stood there and did fucking <em>nothing</em> except open and close his mouth like a broken toad.</p><p>He heard ‘Hime barely stifle a giggle. Uryu didn’t bother containing his aggravated sigh, rubbing at his temples probably, or taking off his stupid glasses and cleaning them on some soft fabric he pulled out of his ass.</p><p>Grimmjow didn’t really expect the prudish prince to do anything, <em>teasing 'em's half the</em> fun, and turned his head away, facing the window, being able to look out the grounds below. He heard the meow of a huffy little cat, but ignored it, figuring she was begging for the prince to pick her up again because she was a black-haired furry backstabber. Whatever. <em>She could at least be a little more grateful for the name.</em></p><p>He couldn’t see much for the rain pelting the window, running down the glass like thousands of tiny, one drop rivers, and sneered at the sight. The rain could get fucked. He could feel the water seeping through the shoes he wasn’t wearing, but refrained from fidgeting in his spot like some kind of pussy. The rain couldn’t get in, unless of course whoever built the castle’s shitty little wall also had a hand, or several, in the roof design.</p><p> He wasn’t prepared for the harsh tug behind him, on the laces, and bit his tongue so he wouldn’t make some stupid-ass sound. Was he hoping the prince took his bait? Abso-fuckin-lutely. Did he think he actually would? Not a chance in hell. Especially since there were others in the room. </p><p>Casting a quick, curious glance over his shoulder, it was indeed the prince standing behind him, close enough to catch his scent. Like he could evaporate rain with a snap of his fingers—something kind of spicy, a little like leather, and cinnamon.</p><p>“You’re a fuckin’ nightmare, you know that?” he hissed quietly, so that only Grimmjow could hear him. He could feel his warm breath against the skin of his neck. Prissy tailor and ‘Hime were having their own little giggle fit back a few paces, leaving them to converse about whatever was going down with as much privacy as possible with four people in room. </p><p>Grimmjow toyed with the ring, turning and twisting it between his fingers, well within view of Kurosaki, toying with him a little still. He couldn't help it when it was <em>this much fun.</em> <em>He's making it too easy.</em> </p><p>“And yet you’re lacing me up anyway,” he replied, not bothering to lower his voice like the prince, tugging at the chain with his other hand. Kurosaki in turn, pulled the cords tighter, enough so that his breathing stopped for a second. <em>Touchy bastard,</em> he thought with a grin, feeling how strong hands worked at the base of the leather monstrosity, holding it in place while he tugged with his other hand. He definitely didn’t dislike the feeling, even if Kurosaki was manhandling him a little. <em>Fuck, maybe that's why...</em>.</p><p>“So, did your father have anything to say about tomorrow?” Orihime asked, interrupting his thoughts and the steady heat building in his chest and stomach.</p><p>Kurosaki gave one last, long tug on the laces and finished, placing a hand on the strap going over his shoulder, tugging him around to face the rest of the party, like he could just...<em>touch</em> Grimmjow whenever he wanted. And just why the fuck was he letting it happen so easily? </p><p>Whatever.</p><p>Kurosaki's face was still aflame, and he couldn’t meet Grimmjow’s heated gaze as he spoke to the woman, a groan more than anything else. That would have to do for now. </p><p>“Yeah, sounds like it’s gonna be a real shitshow.”</p><p>Grimmjow frowned, crinkling his nose up slightly. </p><p>
  <em>Fuckin’ great. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:D I really like dressing Grimmjow in case no-one has noticed. If anyone is interested, I did end up making a tumblr. I say it’s for my writing stuff, but it’s mostly me yelling about different bleach things in the tags (and sometimes other stuff) because why not. It’s backwardshirt.tumblr.com : ) I’m on it way more than I should be right now because it’s new, and I’m a goober. My box thingymessages are open (I think) so you can holler at me if you’d like! :D As always, comments and kudo’s are appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A Meeting with Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The day of the meeting has arrived. Ichigo and Grimmjow wait outside while members from the Seireitei talk alone with his father, the shady advisor, and Yoruichi. Hopefully things could go smoothly, but if what Isshin let him know this morning, more than likely, that was a pipe dream.<br/>Regardless, hopefully light could be shed on the situation and they gain some allies. Flicking a gaze over Grimmjow's form, Ichigo swallowed. Was it getting hot in there, or was it just him?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Quit messing with it,” Ichigo said, swatting at Grimmjow’s hands, which were fidgeting with the single strap on the corset Uryu made, tightening it, loosening it. Wherever he had it, he didn’t seem to like it. The brass buckle, dull and dark, dug into his shoulder as he gave it a good yank.</p><p><em>He’d probably rather go shirtless,</em> the prince thought, looking at the leather hugging tightly to Grimmjow’s broad frame. His waist was a little narrower than what Ichigo initially thought, even though he’d seen him shirtless most of the time. Maybe it was the filigree carved into the sides? <em>This wasn’t what I was imagining, but….</em> Something about the way it held onto the man like a second skin, the dark leather accenting pale skin, the almost white, blue shirt, giving his eyes the illusion of glowing.</p><p>Ichigo laced the back of it up a little earlier, he had too. Well, <em>had </em>to <em>wanted</em> to…whatever. Grimmjow wouldn’t have to know. It was that or Grimmjow dislocating both shoulders to get the job done, something he wouldn’t put past the guy.  </p><p>“You’re jus’ jealous I’ll be the prettiest in the room,” Grimmjow said mockingly, grabbing the hand Ichigo swatted him with and pulled it over and past his shoulder, forcing the prince closer. <em>Stupid Uryu and his stupid corset and stupid Grimmjow for making it look so good.</em> Ichigo could feel his face heat up like a lit fire, but now really wasn’t the time for such nonsense. The grin plastered on his face didn’t falter at Ichigo’s scowl, not that it ever did.</p><p>Palming the blue-haired idiot’s face and pushing it away, wringing his hand out of the man’s grasp, Ichigo sighed. He already knew today was going to be a long-ass day, Grimmjow was just making it worse…or distracted…or…<em>something.</em></p><p>Feeling a tongue roving under his open hand, right across his life-line, he pushed his palm harder against his stupid nose and lifted off, opting to wipe away the saliva on the sleeve of his new shirt. <em>Damn he’s muscular.</em></p><p>“You’re disgusting,” he growled out, taking a step back from the man, shaking his head and wiping his soiled hand on his own shirt for good measure. <em>He’s going to die in that room if he opens his fangy, bastard mouth. I think I’m his impulse control.</em> The thought alone of that being true was frightening, especially since Ichigo knew he had very little himself. If he could keep the man from fucking things up too much, or talking about things he shouldn’t, things <em>might</em> go okay. Maybe. He still had Isshin to contend with.</p><p>Speaking of, the King pulled Ichigo aside earlier that morning, making him late for a breakfast of oatmeal and fish,<em> thanks for that combo Orihime</em>, slipping a few secrets past clenched teeth like prayers. He didn’t want to conjure sore memories for anyone, knowing how it had hurt him learning the truth about his not-so-dead brother, <em>but I think someone will have to give. </em>Ichigo looked up at the ceiling, and thought of his sisters, their smiles, happy laughter bubbling between them. They were only fifteen. Not little girls anymore, but not yet grown women. Ichigo remembered his vow to protect them, to protect everyone he held most dear. Glancing at Grimmjow once more out of the corner of his eye, he sighed.</p><p>
  <em>I guess it’ll have to be me.</em>
</p><p>“Oi,” Grimmjow’s voice broke him from his stupor, timbre sharp, but not harsh. “Don’t be dozing off. We’ve gotta buncha people to piss off in there.”</p><p>Ichigo scrubbed his hands on his face, momentarily forgetting that one hand had previously been in direct contact with a certain blue-haired idiot’s tongue. Whatever. The sooner this meeting was over with, the better. The butterflies in his stomach had long turned into wasps.</p><p>Isshin said something about being…<em>four more people, Rukia and Renji notwithstanding.</em> One was either the leader of the neighboring Sovereignty, or someone very high up if they were being cautious. An advisor was probably number two, probably, and maybe a couple bodyguards? <em>What does that make Rukia and Renji? Deaf ears between two pretty faces?</em> Doubtful. Could <em>they</em> be the body guards? Thinking back on the kitchen incident, watching Rukia slam her tiny wrist into Renji’s stomach with turbulent force, he thought probably not. <em>Headaches</em> was a more suitable descriptor for the two of them.</p><p>Renji ate just as much as Grimmjow did, and most of it was Orihime’s, so she was absolutely happy with him, and Rukia didn’t shut up about the rabbit bread last night at dinner, much to <em>everyone’s</em> annoyance. <em>At least Orihime is making new friends. </em>Renji seemed alright to Ichigo, a little older than him, probably, though he acted like a juvenile. He’d caught him play fighting with Jinta before everyone headed off to bed—had the kid in a headlock, much to his enjoyment. Grimmjow was walking beside him, playing with that soul-forsaken ring around his neck. <em>If he brings that up in there, I’m going to wring his neck.</em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo and Grimmjow were standing outside of the meeting room door, an old war advisory room Isshin never needed to use. Long tables with uncomfortable chairs, a big map spread across it, probably, he was assuming on that one, and lots of books. Lots of dust. Hopefully none of his dirty old man books were in there, if he even had any. Ichigo wasn’t entirely convinced the guy could actually read, but whatever. He’d made it this far with what thoughts he could produce inside his thick skull. That had to count for something.  </p><p><em>I wonder how my friends are doing,</em> he thought, breaking away from his goofy father. Orihime and Tatsuki were probably cooking up a feast. Grimmjow and Renji would definitely eat Orihime’s food, but she might be stressed enough the food would be…<em>normal</em>. Chad was most likely tending to new animals in the stable, making sure they had enough food and water, letting them out into the pasture to roam, or letting them rest in their stalls. Uryu was hopefully working on a new pair of boots for Grimmjow while cursing the date Ichigo was born for asking. <em>He really doesn’t care for leather working; I don’t know why he’s so adamant about making them, we could easily buy a pair to fit the guy. </em></p><p>Grimmjow shifted from one foot to the other in his worn black boots, pants equally dark, but definitely not as tight as yesterday, <em>thank souls.</em> At least Uryu had more sense than his father. Sneaking a last glance at the leather wrapped around his torso, the single strap adjusted to hell and back, the broadness of his chest, and sighed. Maybe he didn’t have as much sense as Ichigo wanted to give him credit for.</p><p>The door opening pulled him out of his thoughts with a jolt. Urahara waved at them to come in with his ugly little green diamond fan, plopping down in his seat as soon as Ichigo walked through the threshold, Grimmjow reluctantly following behind him closely.</p><p>Urahara sat down beside his father, who looked as serious as he’d been the last couple of days. Yoruichi sat on the other side of him, elbow leaning on the table, a bored expression on her face, ponytail slung over her shoulder like a sling. The tip of it brushed against the table and she flicked it around a couple times before Ichigo moved on. Not quite knowing where to go, the prince stood next to the seated advisor, Grimmjow slightly behind him to the right. Looking across the large wooden table, <em>with a map, I was right!,</em> were six other people, three seated, three standing.</p><p>Rukia and Renji were the only two he recognized. A man to Rukia’s left was tall, not quite as tall as Renji, but still taller than Rukia, <em>not that it takes much.</em> A stark white haori draped over a black shihaksho, finger-less tekkō covering the back of his hands, and a white scarf draped loosely around his neck. Very traditional. <em>Well, maybe not the scarf, but I’m not sure.</em> Long black hair, some kind of hair fastener…things locked into the center and right side of his head kept most of the glossy black out of his face, minus a couple strands.  </p><p><em>Rukia mentioned something about a brother, this must be him,</em> he thought as the man ignored him completely, in favor of…<em>is he glaring at Yoruichi?</em></p><p>Whatever. Next to the glaring man, sat a man with the prettiest, whitest hair he’d ever seen, similar haori and black shihaksho garb on. While his eyes spoke of exhaustion, he also looked very kind, as he gave Ichigo a slight smile when he caught his eye. Offering a small one in return, Ichigo shifted his gaze to an <em>old, old</em> man who looked like he hadn’t taken a shit in about fifteen or so years. Bald head, longest beard in the world, probably, a scar in the shape of an X across his bald head, breaking up the shininess of it.</p><p><em>That must be their Lord,</em> he thought, locking eyes briefly with the man. Well, locking an <em>eye</em>, as he only cracked one open for a small moment. Ichigo felt a jolt of fire burn through his veins as their eyes met, and clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together. The feeling, though fleeting, reminded him of his time in the forest, with the poison. The same, painful heat. <em>What the hell was that?</em></p><p>Between the freaky old man, and the white-haired man sat a final man, <em>why are there so many men in here,</em> with long dark hair in a low pony tail. A light pink kimono was draped over his shoulders, on top of his white haori, over his black shihaksho. He looked like he was <em>pretending</em> to be bored, but the way his body was turned, his still hands, the calculating eyes glancing his way, said otherwise.</p><p>Ichigo felt the presence behind him fidget, and glanced back at Grimmjow, who was already glaring at him like he’d rather be swimming in an active lava pit instead of where he currently stood. At the moment, Ichigo would much rather join him.</p><p>“So this is the missing Prince?” an old, authoritative voice spoke. Ichigo turned to the old man, who was staring directly at him, one eye cracked open, sans fire blood, thankfully. Though he was sitting, he still had his hand resting on a knobby, weird looking cane, propped up between his legs. Even from where he stood, Ichigo could see the scars littering his hands and what part of his arms he could see.</p><p>
  <em>I bet he’s absolutely jacked under those robes.</em>
</p><p>Ichigo could feel eyes on him, all eyes, actually. Oh shit, the old fart had asked a question, hadn’t he?</p><p>“Ah, yes,” he answered lamely, not quite knowing the proper response. While he couldn’t remember the actual procedure for speaking with the leaders of other countries, he figured respect was probably a good way to go.</p><p>“You have caused the Sovereignty a good deal of trouble, Ichigo Kurosaki,” the man continued, still staring with one eye open.</p><p><em>My pleasure, old fart,</em> he wanted to say. His face must have registered a little of what he was thinking, as the leader turned then to his father and spoke again. Rukia shifted slightly in his peripheral. He felt the heat of Grimmjow’s body closer on his back.</p><p>“Though, I suppose it is in his nature.”</p><p>Ichigo felt the muscles in his jaw tense, clench as he ground his teeth together.</p><p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Eyes, all eyes, once more, stared at the prince from every angle. <em>Shit, I said that out loud.</em> He heard a faint snort behind him—at least <em>someone</em> was amused. Isshin looked less friendly.</p><p>“Ichigo,” his father warned, voice stern and serious. His eyes narrowed on his son, a look Ichigo returned with force. Lord of the land or not, the old fart would do well to keep that shit to himself. Getting critiqued by his own old man was a pain in the ass as it was, but from a stranger who knew nothing of him, was enough to make him want to jab something sharp in his ears. <em>He probably shits dust. </em></p><p>“Now is not the time for such quarrels,” Isshin continued, eyes leaving Ichigo to look towards baldy. He didn’t even get the grace of a capitol ‘b’ in his mind. Maybe Bastard.</p><p>“We have a bigger issue at hand.” Hands folded on the table in front of him, Isshin straightened in full, even though Urahara was slouched over in his own seat much like an ugly, green potato sack.  </p><p>“Yes, yes, so you’ve said, Lord Isshin,” the ponytailed man said, turning slightly towards him, gray eyes doing a quick once over. Ichigo grimaced at the title. Hearing his father called that was…strange, especially since the man was so…<em>casual</em> about it, saying it as he played with the end of his hair, twisting it around his finger like string.</p><p>“You and your <em>advisor,</em>” the tall man with black hair added, spitting out ‘advisor’ like tea brewed with piss instead of water, “have been nothing but cryptic thus far.”</p><p>
  <em>Well someone didn’t enjoy their piss tea. </em>
</p><p>Urahara waved his bastard fan over his face, obscuring it as he spoke, eyes glinting with something other than mischief, for once, though Ichigo wasn’t quite sure what it was.</p><p>“Ah, that is, unfortunately, the only thing I am good for now days.” Ichigo was certain he’d put some kind of enchantment on the fan, but souls only knew what. Probably something weird, or even borderline forbidden, like a love charm or something, if something like that existed. If it didn’t, he’d probably invent it. That would be so like the guy, though trying to make the black-haired man fall in love with him seemed like…not a good idea. Maybe he was trying to make Yoruichi jealous for her comment a few days ago.</p><p>“I don’t think anybody buys that—“Renji said, one tattooed eyebrow cocked, until the black haired man cut him off with a wave of his delicate, well-maintained hand.</p><p>“You spoke of Aizen and his group called the Espada. We have neither seen or heard anything regarding them in over two decades. What makes you think they are active now?”</p><p><em>Two decades,</em> Ichigo thought. <em>Do they not know about my mother?</em></p><p>Yoruichi snorted on the other side of Isshin, legs crossed in her chair, head propped up by an arm leaning on the chair now, earning a fiery glare from the Seireitei man.</p><p>“Assassin don’t move in broad daylight, Byakuya. Surely you know that by now. What makes you so sure they’re not active? They’re not called a secretive group because they host bi-annual tea parties,” she teased at the man—<em>Byakuya—</em>giving Ichigo the impression she already knew who he was.</p><p>“You insolent—”</p><p>Lord Baldy held up a single, scarred hand, stopping Byakuya before he finished his biting threat.</p><p>“That is enough. I will not sit here listening to the bickering of ignorant children.” His voice, loud, authoritative, echoing off the high ceiling, shut the chatter up immediately. It felt like a piece of ice landed directly on his chest, sinking into his heart with a dull, wet pain.</p><p>“King of Karakura, what evidence do you have that Aizen, along with his group of espada are even <em>alive</em>? As you know, before he succumbed to his injuries, my son gravely wounded Aizen. That was thirty years ago.”</p><p>Ichigo winced, and remembered the conversation he had with his father and Urahara earlier this morning.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“So you’re telling me…Aizen was the one who killed Sasabike, who was the Sovereignty Lords’ son?” Ichigo asked, looking between his father and Urahara. They were in Urahara’s lab…office…place. Ichigo could say with certainty he’d rather be anywhere else. Covered in horse shit and mucking out stalls had nothing on this creepy-ass place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was like he took the kitchen dungeon, took all the lights away, replaced them with the saddest, homemade candles Ichigo had ever seen, and then didn’t use them, preferring to use some weird spell to light up close piles of junk and potions. Urahara still had his stupid hat on, concealing his eyes behind a thick, black shadow. How he could see where anything was in the room was a mystery. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Why can’t I just go back to breakfast? And Grimmjow’s gonna need help lacing that damn corset from the underworld Uryu made’em.’ Ichigo smiled, remembering the man’s expression from the previous day as he’d quietly snuck up behind him and grabbed the laces. Had he seen a faint pink dusting the bastard’s cheeks? Maybe. His cheeks were certainly flaming. ‘If he’s gonna tease me, I’m gonna tease’em right back.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, someone is having a good day. Have a nice night with—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isshin palmed the advisors face and pushed him against the wall lightly, interrupting what was probably going to be a very perverted end to the sentence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You finish that sentence and I’ll castrate you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ichigo sighed. Nothing was ever easy with these two. Or his sisters. Or any of his friends. Or Grimmjow. ‘Especially Grimmjow.’ Whatever. That was a problem for a little later. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ut gehing ack oo er,” Urahara started, holding up his index finger like he was making a point, Isshin’s hand still covering his scruffy face. Yoruichi snorted from he space behind the desk, legs crossed in the only seat in the room, a few rogue papers between her fingers. Isshin made an annoyed sound, before taking his hand away and wiping it across his tunic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“As I was saying,” Urahara continued, like he hadn’t been assaulted with the king’s gross hand. “Given the information received yesterday, and my own, personal knowledge, that is the clearest explanation I can come up with.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright that makes sense enough,” Ichigo started, picking up a rogue bottle sitting along an end table and swirling it around in the jar. It was dark, almost black. “But what about the whole…” Ichigo gestured with his hand, miming something of short stature and then to Isshin’s form. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah yes, that,” Urahara said, like the vague, poorly executed hand acrobatics made perfect sense. “I believe at the time, Aizen was probably attempting to make his own soul gem. It must’ve reacted poorly, or perhaps the prince struck it as he was attacked, causing an ill-fated reaction? Who is to say but him, really.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The advisor took the filled jar from Ichigo’s hands and turned the cork, pulling it out slowly with a small ‘pop’ of the cork release. Setting down the cork, he reached for a hollow, glass tool. As he held it up, Ichigo saw the liquid was actually a shimmery, deep purple.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ichigo watched him as his father spoke, the silvery-purple swirling almost hypnotizing him. “That would make sense, I did find him only a couple weeks after the assassination, I think.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hmm, yes, that timeline sounds accurate enough,” the advisor continued, sticking the dropper into the liquid and depressed the top until liquid was sucked up, and into the hollow cavity. Yoruichi held up a single piece of paper between her index and middle finger out to the advisor who left the dropper in the vial to take it, examining it and nodding once to her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Regardless, if they find out the man I took in when I was a boy was actually Aizen…” his father trailed off, leaning a thoughtful fist against his cheek, sparing Yourichi a look. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They may take quite…harshly to that information.” She said it like it was nothing, taking back the paper she’d given Urahara, but Ichigo felt the weight behind the words. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s not like you knew that though!” Ichigo felt his fist tighten. Surely the Seireitei wouldn’t be a massive bag of soggy dicks about the situation? Isshin was just a boy when all that shit happened, would they really do something that drastic? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Lord Yamamoto will do as he sees is fit.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Kingdoms have gone to war for less,” Urahara added, swirling the liquid around in the vial, glass dropper clinking against the neck. “I’ve seen it myself.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How old are you, exactly?” Ichigo asked without thinking, blinking owlishly, watching as the man held the dropper over his eyes and let a single, purple bead drop into the center of his eye. There hadn’t been a war since he was born, not one he was aware of anyway. And all the texts he’d studied as a child gave no indication Karakura had been in any serious conflict since the time before his fathers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His only reply was a smile, eyes glowing a faint silver for an instant, giving him more questions than answers.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Now, in the meeting room, all eyes were on Isshin, who tensed and swallowed, eyes turning cold, harsh. <em>There’s no way he can’t <strong>not</strong></em> <em>say anything about his brother and Aizen being the same person,</em> Ichigo thought, holding a steady breath captive. Unless….<em> unless I say something about Grimmjow.</em> That could throw them off, and save any conflict rising to the surface to Karakura, for the time being, anyway.</p><p>“As I suspected,” the old man continued, eyes glowing like hot coals, the temperature in the room warmed with his dissatisfaction. “You have nothing but foolish superstitions. Wasting my time—"</p><p>“Ten days ago, an espada found me when I was in the forest.”</p><p>All eyes darted to him as the words left his careless mouth. He heard Grimmjow inhale sharply behind him, as something grasped the back of his shirt and fist into it. <em>Ah, shit, I should’ve worded that better.</em> Silently apologizing to the man would have to do for now. Hopefully, he could tip-toe around the subject enough to make it believable, <em>and</em> Grimmjow could be safe. <em>Bureaucracy is a pain in the ass. </em> </p><p>“Poisoned me,” he added. Grimmjow’s fist remained in his tunic, but lost some strength behind its grasp. Besides that, if Isshin really did say something about Aizen, his sisters would find out for sure. Isshin was nothing, except a vault that was almost always open, and talking. They’d ask about their mother, find out about her death through the gaze of conflict and murder, maybe even get pulled into this steaming pile of shit. <em>I couldn’t face them if they found out like that.</em> And the last thing he wanted was for them to get involved with something as dangerous as this would probably end up being.</p><p>Isshin turned his gaze on him, brows furrowed, eyes sharp. <em>Ah, that’s right. They kept that little bit from him.</em> He should’ve known. At least his friends let him have <em>some </em>privacy, even if it was about him getting poisoned in a forest by an assassin.</p><p>Whatever.</p><p>The concern in his face wasn’t a new thing for the man to show, but he rarely used it on Ichigo anymore, reserving it more for the girls and their antics. So unused to seeing a fatherly gaze upon him, Ichigo felt his chest tense up, breath hitch. This he didn’t like.</p><p>The eyes, so many eyes, locked onto his form was unnerving. Uncomfortable. Grimmjow un-fisted his hand in his shirt and pressed his palm flat against his back, feeling warmth press into his skin. <em>What the fuck is he doing now?</em></p><p>“Poisoned you?” Urahara asked, and Ichigo could breathe again, spell broken. Grimmjow shifted behind him, taking his hand away, until he was slightly beside him, not towering over him per say…but he was definitely taller. And broader. And <em>damn</em> that corset looked really—</p><p><em>Focus,</em> he told himself, shaking his head slightly. Now was not the time for distractions. Even if he absolutely would take one right the fuck now.</p><p>“It was some kind of paralytic,” Ichigo continued, turning so even his peripheral couldn’t see the looming, blue-haired brute pressing next to him. “Felt like I was burning from the inside out.” <em>And hallucinate. I know I thought I saw Mom, but…</em>. The vision had seemed so real, had <em>touched </em>him even. Could the poison really be that powerful? <em>Oh fuck me sideways, that was Grimmjow wasn’t it?</em></p><p>The realization hit like a heaving bag of Kon’s shit, and smelled just as bad. He’d hallucinated and basically called out for his mother, hadn’t he? <em>Oh souls just leave my body.</em> He’d really have to kill the guy now, there wasn’t another choice. He’d seen him whimper and <em>fuck</em> did he shed some tears too? He couldn’t remember. <em>That explains his reaction to me the second time—he thought I was some kind of—</em></p><p>“Interesting. How long were you paralyzed?” Urahara knocked him out of his self-induced panic. Well, knocked him out of was generous, more like hefted more onto it and shifted it slightly to the left. It was still there, and strong, but aimed from a different angle. Leave it to the advisor to make an already difficult situation worse. <em>Thanks a shitload, you bastard.</em></p><p>“Two days,” Grimmjow spoke up, jolting Ichigo almost completely out of his body, and stepping slightly in front of him. Ocean blue eyes met his as Ichigo mouthed at him, his own gaze narrowed. <em>What are you doing?</em></p><p>Grimmjow, of course, only rolled his eyes.   </p><p> </p><p>-------------------</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow felt his blood boil at the sight before him. <em>Self-sacrificing little shit,</em> he glared hotly at Kurosaki’s back, fist still entangled with the mans tunic. <em>He’ll string ‘emself up by a chain so t’others don’t hang. </em></p><p>He cast a long blue gaze while the prince seemed distracted, even flicking his eyes over Grimmjow’s side and chest. <em>Even if they deserve it,</em> he thought, eyes settling between Lord Treasure Map and King Bastard himself.</p><p><em>Everybody’s got dead people, it’s the live ones ya gotta watch out for.</em> Would it suck talking about Yama’s dead son? Yeah, probably. And what about the dead wife? Grimmjow guessed so on that one too. But letting <em>Kurosaki </em>fumble around and stick his lean muscled neck on the chopping block that both leaders deserved instead? Un-fuckin-real. Grimmjow unfurled his hand and pressed it against the prince’s back, forcing a bit of healing magic through, for what good it would do. Idiot probably just though his hand was warm. He looked a little panicked. <em>Shouldn’t I be the one panickin’ in this situation? Drama Queen. </em></p><p>“Poisoned you?” the advisor parroted back. The prince snapped out of…whatever stupor he’d worked himself into. <em>Tch, this idiot could make a nun nervous.</em> Hell if he wasn’t getting on Grimmjow’s nerves. Slowly, he retracted his hand, leveling off the small amount of magic he’d pushed into Kurosaki’s dumb, warm body. He had no business being that warm, it was like sleeping next to a bonfire. He’d probably get even hotter if Grimmjow stuck his hand—</p><p>“It was some kind of paralytic. Felt like I was burning from the inside out.” Kurosaki said, head turned, interrupting Grimmjow from his line of thought. The way he faced right now, he couldn’t see whatever emotion the prince wore on his face. <em>He’s like readin’ a damn book.</em>  </p><p><em>An’ he’s draggin’ me innit too, the brat. </em>Grimmjow figured something like this was going to happen. Nothing had worked out in his favor yet, so why start now? Given what he’d witnessed with this idiot over the past few days, he’d be more surprised if it <em>did</em> go smoothly. <em>Fuckin’ great.</em></p><p>Sure the kid had balls, and despite not using it often enough, it was obvious there was a brain in the kids ginger head. But there was no way this sheltered little shit, no matter how good of a fighter he was could get very far on his own. No way. No amount of pure will could get it done—Grimmjow wouldn’t believe it until he saw it.  </p><p><em>Not that he wouldn’t try though. </em>He remembered that look in the forest—the one that said he’d take on every damn member of Aizen’s shitty little group barehanded and blind if he had too. The memory stirred something dangerous in his stomach. <em>Then again…maybe there was somethin’ to it…</em></p><p>“Interesting. How long were you paralyzed?”</p><p>But it would’ve <em>been really fucking nice</em> if he’d at least told <em>one</em> of the two idiots at the table about the whole…poison thing. <em>I’m gonna get an earful later…if Lord Treasure Map doesn’t kill me first,</em> he thought, taking a step to the side and forward, putting him ever so slightly in front of the gawking prince.</p><p>“Two days,” Grimmjow said, watching as the prince whirled around, golden eyes narrowed and sharp, almost accusing. <em>If you’d jus’ worry about yourself once or twice, we coulda avoided all this shit.</em></p><p><em>What are you doing?</em> Kurosaki mouthed to him, earning an eye-roll instead of a middle finger. He did have <em>some</em> manners, even if he chose not to use them. He couldn’t have anyone kill him before he’d said anything else, that would just be embarrassing.</p><p>Breaking his gaze away from the fish-mouthed prince, he looked around the room, spying all eyes turned to him instead. Good enough. The Sovereignty leaders and Lord sat with a mix of emotions on their stupid, smug faces. <em>The only good thing that came from Aizen was leavin’ that shitty place.</em>  </p><p>“And just who would you be,” a man wearing a weird pink kimono over his shoulders, ponytail dangling over his left one asked lazily, like he didn’t actually care, an act that would only fool a fool.</p><p><em>Tch, he hasn’t changed.</em> Shunsui Kyōraku, advisor to the Lord and first-class pervert. He’d been trying to get in Ukitake’s pants even before Grimmjow had left the Seireitei twelve years ago. The rumors had spread even to the outermost districts even then, not that he gave two shits about who some shitty nobleman wanted to put his dick in. He had more pressing matters at the time.</p><p>It was hard to tell from their expressions if he’d successfully wooed the man yet, not that Grimmjow really cared. Ukitake seemed as professional, <em>and frail,</em> as ever, not that he’d ever seen him up close. He’d never really paid attention to the chatter about the center of the Seireitei, where the Lord and all the nobles lived, unless it was impossible to ignore. <em>Way too fuckin’ boring.</em></p><p>Byakuya Kuchiki stood next to Ukitake like the stick he stuck up his ass was still there twelve years later. Quickly glancing at the much shorter woman beside him, he recognized the resemblance between them. <em>At least shorty’s got personality. Hell, I’d rather eat lead than try an’ hold a conversation with that guy. </em></p><p>Grimmjow looked back to Kyōraku, who was still staring as if he didn’t actually care, but situation called for him to ask and jutted his thumb out towards the prince.</p><p>“The one who saved his sorry ass.”</p><p>He heard a chuckle off to the side, the assassin and advisor perhaps, and watched the man’s eyes wander along his chest, spying the band dangling around his neck. <em>Shit, </em>should he have taken that off? Once they found out who he was, wouldn’t that just make things harder for the stupid prince and his whole shitty castle?</p><p><em>Too late now,</em> he thought holding his gaze steady when Kyōraku looked back up, a knowing, and quite frankly, <em>creepy,</em> look in his eyes.</p><p>“Ah, as you can see,” Kisuke started, waving his bastard fan near his chest, directing every eye in the room toward the ring dangling around his neck like a beacon. <em>I’m going to murder’em the next new moon and eat his bones.</em> “This man is—”</p><p>“I fail to see how one man and his betrothed are enough to take drastic action,” Byakuya said, cutting off the advisor. Grimmjow never thought he’d actually be <em>happy</em> to hear the guy speak until he registered what he’d actually said. <em>Betrothed? I ain’t gonna fuckin’ marry the guy this is just—</em></p><p>“Even if one is a prince,” the black-haired man finished, cutting off Grimmjow’s line of thought in time for a newer, more violent one.</p><p><em>If it was <strong>your</strong></em> <em>prince,</em> Grimmjow thought, glaring at Yama’s agreeing face like he’d spit at his feet, <em>you’d be singin’ a different tune.</em> Could he say that out loud without getting burned alive? The guy was known to be as proficient as they came when it came to elemental spells, especially fire. Long before Grimmjow was born, it was said he’d burned an entire district in his rage for not following a decree of some sort.</p><p>“And if it were the work of the espada, how are you both even still alive? They are fearsome assassins, are they not?” Kyōraku added onto the existing thought. His voice was less like claws on slate, but still forced him to suppress a shudder.</p><p><em>Leave it to these idiots to kick up their heels about somethin’ actually important. </em>For a moment, Grimmjow thought it may have been best to leave them out of it completely. So far, they’d only been met with disbelief and frustration. A feeling he shared, currently.</p><p>Grimmjow looked beside him, at Ichigo. His eyes centered solely on the ring laying on Grimmjow’s chest, right above his heart, face as bright as he’d seen in days. <em>Betrothed, huh?</em> <em>Tch.</em> The way Grimmjow figured, he should at least let him touch his dick the next time they slept, if he was even alive by then. He’d deserve a reward for this next shitty stunt.</p><p> </p><p>“Tch. ‘Cuz I outranked that asshole by two fuckin’ numbers, is how,” Grimmjow said, crossing his arms with a glare to the party in front of him. At least the ones on the Karakura side already knew. Maybe only half the world would end today. With any luck, it would be the half he didn’t give two shits about anymore.</p><p><em>An’ I’m way better lookin’,</em> he thought bitterly, watching expressions change from amusement to irritation to realization to—</p><p>“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ukitake asked, voice low, all proper pronunciation and serious face. His face looked paler after the question hung in the air for a bleak second; Grimmjow heard the tell-tale sound of a sword leaving its sheath.</p><p>Beside the white-haired man, Byakuya’s long, slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword like it was Grimmjow’s neck. White knuckled and strained, his face gave nothing away but a cold, calculating, rage.</p><p>His sisters eyes were wide as she stared between him and her stone-cold brother, like she was afraid of his reaction, rather than Grimmjow’s admission.</p><p> Renji, on the other hand, looked a mix of tired and confused as hell. Hair red as hellfire looked unbrushed in its ponytail, nose scrunched up, eyes squinting like he was having trouble seeing what was in front of him, before he gave a small shrug.</p><p>He liked Renji, the guy seemed as straightforward as they came.</p><p>Kyōraku sat straighter in his chair, lazy pony tail thrown behind him, girly pink kimono barely clinging to his broad shoulders. Eyes, once unfocused and hazy were now centered on Grimmjow, like he could heat the metal of the ring up and bore it straight through him. But that guy, while formitable, wasn’t his main concern. Shifting his eyes to the man beside him, he felt his jaw muscles tighten.</p><p>The Treasure Map’s knuckles were white against his cane, one eye open and narrowed on his face. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the air in the room turning dry and rough against Grimmjow’s skin, like rage alone was heating up the space. <em>Hell, it probably was.</em></p><p>Beside him, Ichigo glared up at Grimmjow like he’d reached down and grabbed his dick in a roomful of strangers. <em>Little prude.</em></p><p>“You are an Espada?” The Lord’s voice was like fire breathing down his neck as he spoke, his hairs standing on end. <em>Hell, I can almost see the sparks flying from his mouth. </em>Beside him, the prince whipped his head around so fast Grimmjow’s neck hurt from watching.</p><p>Turning eyes back to the furious Sovereignty leader before him, Grimmjow opened his death-wish mouth.</p><p>“Somethin’ like that.”</p><p>Byakuya’s grip tightened further around his sword, if that was even possible. Any harder and he would snap it.</p><p>“You don’t make anything easy, do you?” Kurosaki whispered harshly beside him, face anchored straight ahead at Yama, pinching the skin of his arm like they were in the middle of a petty squabble instead.</p><p>“Silence.” Yama’s voice lit the torches along the wall, their flames growing as most of the humidity evaporated from the air. Sweat beaded on Grimmjow’s forehead. <em>Jus’ had to make a corset, huh? This thing is hot as hell.</em></p><p>King Bastard, Kiskue, and the weird assassin lady—<em>Yoruichi, I think—</em>also rose to their feet. Kyōraku and Ukitake followed, looming over almost everyone, except Renji, who still seemed mostly unbothered.</p><p>
  <em>Great. Now we’re all standing around a table with a bunch of chairs like a bunch of schmucks.</em>
</p><p>“You and this traitorous prince shall not be fit for the flames I will scorch you with.”</p><p>“Touch either of them, and this will not end well for you,” Isshin countered without hesitation, hand on the pommel of a sword Grimmjow didn’t even know the guy was wearing.</p><p>He froze, the King’s words sinking in.</p><p>
  <em>Either of us? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why’s he including me? </em>
</p><p>“Then you shall fall as—”</p><p>“Oh for fucks sake,” Kurosaki said beside Grimmjow, interrupting the two men, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Grimmjow had to hold himself back from the strange urge of licking it, just to see what it would taste like. <em>I forgot danger turns me on. </em></p><p>“Are we even gonna try and think this through, or would we just rather set each other on fire right now?”</p><p>Grimmjow frowned at him. Think it through? What for? Yamamoto wasn’t known for turning tail, and he certainly didn’t back down from anything. The temperature rose more, stinging against Grimmjow’s skin. <em>Great job kid, now he’s just going to incinerate us here and now. </em></p><p>“This no longer concerns you, boy—” Byakuya started, glaring at the prince.</p><p>“My mother’s name was Masaki Shiba, a woman of <em>your </em>country. A woman who, after giving birth to twin girls—my <em>sisters</em>—was murdered.<em>”</em> Kurosaki’s hand shook against Grimmjow’s arm as he stepped forward, and slightly around his body, blocking him with his own body like an idiot, for what good it would do. The heat of Yama’s flame could bore a hole straight through stone, two meat sacks were nothing to him.</p><p>“She was killed by an espada named Nnoitora fifteen years ago. If you had done <em>your</em> job, and made sure Aizen was dead in the first place, we wouldn’t be here now.”</p><p>Grimmjow felt the air burn against his exposed skin, sweat now beading down his neck in fat drops. <em>Damn, if I live through this, I’m gonna need a shower. </em>He looked at Kurosaki’s back, tunic sweat through, sticking to a lean, muscular, back. <em>A cold one.</em></p><p>“But we are. And now you wish to say this is <em>no concern of mine?</em>” He watched as the prince looked around the room, head held high, at each noble member across the table before them.</p><p>
  <em>Looks like he’s got more balls that I thought.</em>
</p><p>Kurosaki’s voice was unwavering. Not loud, but <em>commanding.</em> Like his words were important, they meant something. Deserved to be heard. It was similar to Yama’s voice, but also distinctly <em>different.</em> Though his words were harsh, were truthful, but they didn’t have the same…<em>malice </em>as Yama’s. Grimmjow was suddenly struck with the knowledge he was listening to the prince of an entire kingdom speak. In the moment, he sounded like one.</p><p><em>Damn Kurosaki.</em> Ignoring the heat pooling in his belly got about ten times harder.</p><p>“We can play the blame game all we want,” Kurosaki continued, scouring the faces before him, unknowing to the effect he had on Grimmjow’s…<em>other </em>regions. “Bitch and moan about how it isn’t fair. But that will only give Aizen and his group more time, and an advantage.” Renji looked awake now. Bunny girl looked ashamed. Byakuya looked constipated as shit.</p><p>“And if this guy,” he pointed behind him with a thumb to Grimmjow. “Was still a member, I’d be a corpse rotting in the forest right now.”</p><p><em>Holy fuckin’ shit. </em>It’s a damn good thing the prissy little tailor made his pants a looser, or things would get awkward damn fast.  </p><p>Ukitake’s eyes softened as Kurosaki finished his little speech, <em>dramatic bastard.</em> Pointedly ignoring another weird, warm sensation flooding his insides, this one a little more foreign. Instead, he smacked the ginger in front of him across the back of his stupid little head.</p><p>“I didn’t ask you to defend me, idiot.” As if he needed it. If anyone needed a strategy in defense it was this little shithead throwing care into the great unknown while trying to protect literally everyone else.</p><p>Kurosaki spun on his heel, putting him face to face with Grimmjow. <em>Well, face to nose, really.</em> Amber eyes melting into sunset pools, and <em>shit</em> did he have gold flecks in his eyes? How was that fair?</p><p>“If you think I’m going to stand around and let them accuse you of—” Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he started, aiming for <em>irritated</em> instead of <em>fond.</em></p><p>“But I <em>was</em> a member, can’t deny—”</p><p>“But you’re <em>not</em> anymore. You said it yourself!” Kurosaki inched closer, gold flecks changing, melting into a faint ring around his iris. <em>That’s one ring I wouldn’t mind wearing.</em></p><p>“That’s <em>not the point,</em>” Grimmjow articulated, stepping closer, bumping his chest against Kurosaki’s. The prince didn’t back down, instead he raised his hands up to grip at Grimmjow’s loose sleeves, clutching at his biceps like a lifeline. The thought almost had him purring. Even though his fingers were long, they still couldn’t encircle his muscular arm, but dug into his flesh through the material.</p><p>“<em>That’s exactly the point. You were making it worse.” </em>Hissing, it sounded almost like Kurosaki was hissing and the sound went straight south.</p><p><em>If you get any closer, I’m going to make it so much worse,</em> he thought staring down into hot, shining eyes. Lord Treasure Map must’ve kicked up the heat in the room again, Grimmjow felt like his hair was melting right off his head. Kurosaki didn’t look much better, a drop of sweat dripping off the tip of his nose and down into his clothing somewhere in the great beyond. Grimmjow bent his arms to grab at the prince’s, which were still holding tightly to his biceps. Even through his tunic, his skin burned.</p><p>“My goodness, you two certainly are handsy with each other today,” Kisuke’s voice called out, cutting through the tension with a broadsword. The sudden interruption of Grimmjow’s focus caused his body to tense as he felt his upper lip curl into a sneer, boring blue eyes straight at the idiots ugly hat.</p><p>“Yeah, please don’t make out in front of us. I don’t think anyone wants to see that.” That was Bunny girl, in her mocking little voice. <em>I’ll set her precious bread on fire, feed it to the old man. He’d make a good oven.</em></p><p>“I for one wouldn’t mind a little show~” Kyōraku said, forcing Grimmjow’s eyes away from a now embarrassed prince and towards the ponytailed man. He, Ukitake, and Yamamoto were sitting again, watching the scene slice open like a rotten onion. The pervert looked ready for…something. Ukitake’s color was better, though not by much, he always looked like one foot was in a grave, and he was smiling, his arm pushed right up to Kyōraku’s. Yama looked…well, he didn’t look like he was going to set fire to anything just yet. <em>Maybe getting your dusty old ass handed to you by a twenty-something should happen more often.</em></p><p>“I absolutely would mind. This is a serious meeting you two; if you’re going to flirt, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Isshin said dismissively, waving his hand around at them deep, <em>fake, </em>scowl etched onto his face. Grimmjow could see the half-hidden relief in his stupid face. <em>This place is so fucked.</em></p><p>Ichigo backed up, red faced, and turned around, putting his back towards Grimmjow, arms crossed across his chest. Stepping to the side, Grimmjow slung an arm around his shoulders, even as he protested. If it counted as flirting, good.</p><p>“Well, that was certainly enlightening,” Kyōraku said, waving the end of his ponytail in front of Ukitake’s face, who half-heartedly swatted it away. Yoruichi snorted from her chair. Grimmjow hadn’t missed the dagger in her hand, sharp and ready to throw if the situation called for it.  </p><p>“You have some explaining to do, young man,” Yama said, eyes set on Grimmjow. The heat behind his eyes was still intense, but at least it didn’t make his skin want to fall off. All eyes shifted between them, Kurosaki shifted, digging his shoulder closer into his chest like a fleshy shield. “Get to it.”</p><p>
  <em>Fucked indeed.</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay chapter 16 is done! Thank you to all of you who've left such kind words, it really means so much to me for this silly story! I'd say we're halfway there, but as much as I like to drag out stuff sometimes, who knows. I know where this is going and I know the ending, so that's got to count for something, right? (Unless i change it...again....) Anyway, thanks for sticking with it! April will be a little slower updating wise, but I'll do my best! As always (and forever), kudo's and comments are appreciated! :) :)</p>
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